€f|e  25eIlejB?^3lettre0  M^tvit^ 


SECTION  III 

THE   ENGLISH   DRAMA 

FROM    ITS    BEGINNING    TO    THE    PRESENT    DAY 


GENERAL    EDITOR 

GEORGE  PIERCE  BAKER 

PROFESSOR    OF    ENGLISH    IN 
HARVARD    UNIVERSITY 


TAM  HARTl     QA/AM    MERCVRIO 


GEORGE  GASCOIGNE 

From  the  only  contemporary  portrait  ^  in  the  fir  it  edition  of 

*  The  Stele  Glas '  {'57(>) 

The  arquebuss  with  pouches  for  powder  and  shot  on  one  side,  and 
the  books  with  pen  and  ink  on  the  other,  illustrate  the  martial  and 
literary  exploits  which  are  also  recalled  in  the  motto. 


SUPPOSES 

AND 

JOCASTA 


TWO  PLAYS  TRANSLATED  FROxM 
THE  ITALIAN,  THE  FIRST  BY  GEO. 
GASCOIGXE,  THE  SECOND  BY  GEO. 
GASCOIGNE  AND  F.   KINWELMERSH 


EDITED   BY 


JOHN  W.    CUNLIFFE,   D.Lit.  (London) 

ASSOCIATE  PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH   AT  MCGILL  UNIVERSITY 
MONTREAL,   CANADA 


BOSTON,  U.S.A.,  AND  LONDON 

D.   C.   HEATH  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 

1906 


COPYRIGHT,    190^,    nv    T>.    C,    HFATTI    *   CO. 
ALL    KIGIITS    RESERVED 


PR 

George  Gascoigne  was  the  son  and  heir  of  Sir  John  Gascoigne, 
of  Cardington,  Bedfordshire,  but  was  disinherited  on  account  of 
youthful  excesses.  He  left  Cambridge  University  without  a  degree, 
entered  Gray's  Inn  in  1555,  and  represented  the  County  of  Bedford 
in  Parliament  1557—9-  He  was  notorious  for  his  riotous  behaviour,^ 
spent  all  he  had,  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  debtors'  prison. 
In  the  "  myddest  of  his  youth,"  he  "determined  to  abandone  all 
vaine  delightes  and  to  returne  unto  Greyes  Inn,  there  to  undertake 
againe  the  studdie  of  the  common  Lawes."  He  paid  the  fines  for 
his  neglected  terms,  and  was  "  called  ancient  "  in  1565.  He  trans- 
lated the  Supposes  and  (along  with  Francis  Kinwelmersh)  the 
Jocasta,  which  were  presented  at  Gray's  Inn  in  1566.  Probably 
about  this  time  he  married  the  rich  widow  whose  children  by  her 
first  marriage  brought  a  suit  for  the  protection  of  their  interests  in 
1568.  Gascoigne  returned  to  his  evil  courses  as  "  a  man  of  middle 
age,"  if  we  are  to  accept  the  evidence  of  his  autobiographical  poem 

I  Gabriel  Harvey,  in  the  second  of  Foure  Letters  (1592),  has  the  follow- 
ing :  "  I  once  bemoned  the  decayed  and  blasted  estate  of  M.  Gascoigne  : 
who  wanted  not  some  commendable  parts  of  conceit  and  endeavour  :  but 
unhappy  M.  Gascoigne,  how  lordly  happy  in  comparison  of  most  un- 
happy M.  Greene."  (Grosart's  edition,  vol.  i,  pp.  170-171.)  Har\'ey  has 
another  reference,  of  no  less  interest  as  indicating  his  opinion  of  Gas- 
coigne's  personal  character  and  literary  abilities,  in  Pierces  Supererogation 
(1593):  '■'■Had  he  [Nashe]  begun  to  Aretinize,  when  Elderton  began 
to  ballat,  Gascoine  to  sonnet,  Turber\-ille  to  madrigal,  Drant  to  versify, 
or  Tarleton  to  extemporise,  some  parte  of  his  phantasticall  bibble-babbles 
and  capricious  panges  might  have  bene  toUerated  in  a  greene  and  wild 
youth  :  but  the  winde  is  chaunged,  and  there  is  a  busier  pageant  upon  the 
stage.  M.  Aschams  Toxophilus  long  sithens  shot  at  a  fairer  marke  :  and 
M.  Gascoigne  himselfe,  after  some  riper  experience,  was  glad  to  trye 
other  conclusions  in  the  Lowe  Countryes  ;  and  bestowed  an  honorable 
commendation  upon  Sir  Humfrye  Gilbertes  gallant  discourse  of  a  discovery 
for  a  newe  passage  to  the  East  Indyes."  (Grosart,  vol.  11,  p.  96.)  The 
whole  passage  (which  may  also  be  consulted  in  Mr.  Gregory  Smith's 
Elixabethan  Critical  Essays,  vol.  II,  pp.  261-2)  is  worthy  of  attention  as 
the  record  of  the  distinction  made  by  an  acute  contemporary  critic  be- 
tween the  early  part  of  Elizabeth's  reign,  in  which  Gascoigne's  activity 
lay,  and  the  later  period  in  which  Harvey  himself  was  writing. 


95i59SS 


vi  115iograpl)^ 

Dan  Bartholomeiv  of  Bathe ^  and  in  May,  1572,  he  was  preventec 
from  taking  his  seat  in  Parliament  by  a  petition  alleging  : 

"  Firste,  he  is  indebted  to  a  greate  nomber  of  personnes  for  the 
which  cause  he  hathe  absented  him  selfe  from  the  Citie  and  hath 
lurked  at  Villages  neere  unto  the  same  Citie  by  a  longe  time,  and 
nowe  beinge  returned  for  a  Burgesse  of  Midehurste  in  the  Countie 
of  Sussex  doetlie  shewe  his  face  openlie  in  the  dispite  of  all  his  cred- 
itors." 

*'  Item  he  is  a  defamed  person  and  noted  as  well  for  manslaughter 
as  for  other  greate  cryemes. ' ' 

"  Item  he  is  a  common  Rymer  and  a  deviser  of  slaunderous  Pas- 
quelles  against  divers  personnes  of  greate  callinge. ' ' 

"Item  he  is  a  notorious  Ruffianne  and  especiallie  noted  to  be 
bothe  a  Spie,  an  Atheist  and  Godles  personne. " 

The  allegations  need  not  be  accepted  as  weU-founded,  the  main 
object  of  the  petition  being  evidently  to  prevent  Gascoigne  from  ob- 
taining protection  against  his  creditors.  In  March,  1573,  he  sailed 
for  the  Low  Countries,  and  soon  after  an  edition  of  his  works  was 
issued,  professedly  surreptitious,  but,  as  he  afterwards  admitted,  pub- 
lished with  his  knowledge  and  consent.  ^  The  Ad-ventures  of  Master 
F.  y.  caused  scandal  by  supposed  references  to  persons  of  high  rank, 
and  some  of  the  amorous  poesies,  written  by  Gascoigne  for  himself 
or  others,  also  gave  offence.  In  Holland  a  "  loving  letter  "  from  a 
lady  at  the  Hague,  then  in  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  involved  him 
in  suspicion,  but  William  of  Orange  accepted  his  assurances  of  fidel- 

I  The  title-page  of  this  edition  bears  no  date ;  the  prefatory  letter  is 
dated  August,  1572,  and  this  is  commonly  accepted  as  the  year  of  publi- 
cation;  but  1573  seems  more  likely.  The  question  is  complicated  by  the 
conflicting  dates  of  the  prefatory  epistles  of  the  edition  of  1575  ;  that  ad- 
dressed to  the  revcrende  divines  is  dated  the  last  day  of  January,  1574,  and 
in  it  Gascoigne  says  :  "  It  is  very  neere  two  yeares  past  since  (I  beeing  in 
Hollande  in  service  with  the  vertuous  Prince  of  Orange)  the  most  part  of 
the  Posies  were  imprinted."  The  epistle  to  al  yong  Gentlemen^  which 
immediately  follows,  is  dated  January  2nd,  1575,  and  it  seems  probable 
that  it  was  at  the  beginning  of  this  year  that  the  revised  volume  was 
prepared  for  the  press.  This  would  give  157?  as  the  date  of  the  earlier 
edition,  and  this  view  is  confirmed  by  references  to  events  in  the  Low 
Countries  (the  capture  of  Brill,  April  1st,  1572,  and  the  siege  of  Haarlem, 
December,  1572 — July  12, 157?)  in  Gascoigne'' s  voyage  into  Hollande.  The 
date  given  for  this  in  the  heading  of  the  poem  is  '■'•An.  1572,"  but  it  must 
mean  March,  I57f .  This  poem  appears  to  have  been  sent  over  by  Gas- 
coigne to  his  publisher  after  his  arrival  in  Holland. 


115iograpt)^  vii 

ity  and  allowed  him  to  go  under  a  safe  conduct  to  recover  the 
portrait  of  himself  he  had  left  in  the  lady's  hands.  He  suffered  ship- 
wreck, saw  a  good  deal  of  sen-ice,  and  was  four  months  a  Spanish 
prisoner,  returning  home  in  October,  1574.  In  1575  he  printed  a 
revised  and  expurgated  edition  of  his  works,  and  set  himself  in  good 
earnest  to  retrieve  fame  and  fortune.  He  published  an  extremely- 
moral  play  The  Glasse  of  Go-vernment  (1575)  ;  his  well  known  sat- 
ire The  Steele  Glasse  ^  2l  prefatory  epistle  to  Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert's 
Discourse  of  a  Disco'verie  for  a  neiv  Passage  to  Cataia  ;  The  Droome 
of  Doomes  Daye  (in  part  a  translation  of  Innocent  Ill's  De  Contemptu 
iVIui'.di  si-ve  ae  Miseria  Humanae  Conditionis)  ;  and  A  Delicate  Diet 
for  Daintie  Mouthde  Droonkardes  (all  in  15  76).  In  1575  he  was 
employed  by  Leicester  to  compose  a  Masque  of  Zabeta  and  other 
elaborate  compliments  to  the  Queen  on  the  occasion  of  her  famous 
visit  to  KenUworth.  At  Woodstock  he  ''pronounced  the  Tale  of 
Hemetes  the  Heremyte''''  to  Her  Majest>'  and  the  following  January 
presented  versions  of  it  in  French,  Latin,  and  Italian  to  her  as  a 
New  Year's  gift,  with  a  request  for  employment.  The  request  was 
evidently  granted,  for  his  next  New  Year's  gift,  The  Grief  of  Joy e, 
is  offered  as  witness  "  how  the  interims  and  vacant  hours  of  those 
dales  which  I  spent  this  somer  in  your  sers'ice  have  byn  bestowed." 
Probably  he  was  the  George  Gascoigne  who  in  November,  1576, 
received  £20  for  "  bringinge  of  Lettres  in  post  for  her  Majesties 
affaires  frome  Andwarpe  to  Hampton  Court."  He  may  have  been 
the  author  of  The  Spoyle  of  Annverpe  Faithfully  reported  by  a  true 
Englishman  ivho  tvas  present  at  the  same,  printed  anonymously  in 
that  month;  but  this  is  uncertain.  In  May,  1576,  he  describes 
himself  as  "  in  weake  plight  for  health,"  and  on  Oct.  7,  1577,  after 
an  Ulness  of  some  months,  he  died,  recommending  his  wife  and  son 
to  the  Queen's  favour. 

Francis  Kjnwelmersh,  who  translated  acts  i  and  iv  of  Jocasta, 
was  Gascoigne's  friend  and  fellow  student  at  Gray's  Inn,  which  he 
entered  in  1557.  He  appears  to  have  been  elected  member  for  Bos- 
siney,  Cornwall,  in  1572,  and  to  have  died  about  1580.  Some  of 
his  poems  were  included  in  The  Paradyse  of  Daynty  Demises  (1576); 
and  in  the  preface  to  Belvedere,  or  the  Garden  of  the  Muses  (1600), 
he  is  mentioned  among  those  who  "  being  deceased,  have  left  divers 
extant  labours,  and  many  more  held  back  from  publishing,  which 


viii  llBiograjpl)^ 

for  the  most  part  have  been  perused,  and  their  due  right  here  given 
them  in  the  Muses  Garden." 

Christopher  Yelverton,  who  wrote  the  epilogue  to  yocasta,  en- 
tered Gray's  Inn  in  i  552.  He  sat  in  several  Elizabethan  Parliaments 
and  in  1597  vvas  elected  Speaker.  He  was  made  justice  of  the  king's 
bench  in  1602,  and  knighted  the  following  year,  dying  "  of  very 
age"  in  16 12.  Jasper  Heywood,  in  the  metrical  preface  to  his 
translation  of  Seneca's  Thyestes  (1560),  celebrating  the  disciples  of 
Melpomene  at  the  Inns  of  Court,  praises  Yelverton  as  a  writer  of 
"  ditties  "  along  with  Sackville  and  Norton  : 

"  such  yong  men  three 
As  weene  thou  mightst  agayne, 
To  be  begotte  as  Pallas  was 
Of  myghtie  Jove  his  brayne." 


SintroDttctton 

The  justice  of  the  term  **  The  Italian  Renascence,'* 
as  applied  to  European  literature  is  nowhere  better  ex- 
emplified than  in  the  history  of  the  drama.  It  was  at 
Padua  that  Albertino  Mussato,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  took  the  first  step  towards  the  re- 
vival of  this  form  of  art  by  the  composition  of  an  origi- 
nal Latin  tragedy,  the  Ecerinis.  It  was  on  Italian 
stages  that  the  dramas  of  the  ancients  were  first  repro- 
duced after  the  long  lapse  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Itahan 
writers  first  made  the  important  step  of  composing 
dramas  in  the  vernacular  on  subjects  taken  in  some 
cases  from  the  life  of  their  own  day.  Italian  critics 
first  laid  down  the  rules  of  dramatic  art  which  under 
the  name  of  the  Three  Unities  provoked  so  much  dis- 
cussion at  a  later  day. 

The  principal  centre  of  this  new  born  dramatic 
activity  was  Ferrara,  though  it  was  shared  by  every 
Httle  court  and  city  ambitious  for  Renascence  culture. 
Even  at  such  an  obscure  retreat  as  Gazzuolo,  Lodo- 
vico  Gonzaga,  bishop-elect  of  Mantua,  importuned  his 
friends  for  texts  and  translations  of  Plautus,  brocade 
and  tapestries  to  deck  the  stage,  the  only  consolations 
of  his  voluntary  exile  being,  as  he  himself  says,  '  *  wine 
and  play-acting. ' '  ^    But  Ferrara  was  the  leader  of  the 

^  lo  non  penso  se  non  a  vino  et  representar  comedie.  Commedie 
classiche  in  Gaz'zuolo  nel  i^oi—'J.  Umberto  Rossi  in  Giornale  Storico 
della  Letteratura  Italiana.    Vol.  xiu. 


X  idntroUuction 

movement  and  will  serve  us  best  as  an  exemplar  of  its 
progress.  Hercules  I  deserves  remembrance  as  the 
Mscenas  of  Renascence  drama.  The  first  record  in 
the  Diario  ferrarese  ^  of  the  acting  of  a  classical  play 
is  in  i486,  when  the  Menaechmi  of  Plautus  was  given 
in  the  court  yard  on  a  wooden  stage,  with  five  battle- 
mented  houses,  each  provided  with  a  window  and  a 
door,  —  and  the  cost  of  the  said  festival  came  to  more 
than  1000  ducats.  The  chronicler  Zambotti  adds  that 
ten  thousand  people  looked  on  with  silent  attention 
(con  gran  taciturnita. )  Next  year  the  Amphitryon 
was  to  be  presented  with  equal  magnificence,  but  the 
performance  was  interrupted  by  rain,  and  had  to  be 
given  up  at  five  o'clock  instead  of  lasting  till  nine. 
This  was  probably  the  reason  why  in  1491  we  find 
the  scene  transferred  to  the  great  hall.  The  Milanese 
ambassadors,  who  were  present,  sent  an  elaborate  ac- 
count of  the  performance  to  their  Duke.  Near  the 
middle  of  the  hall,  seats  were  arranged  in  tiers,  in  view 
of  four  castles,  from  which  the  actors  issued  :  first  came 
one  who  told  the  substance  of  the  comedy  (the  Menae- 
chmi^ which  was  played  with  so  much  skill  and  grace 
that  all  were  loud  in  their  praises.  In  the  intervals  three 
intermezzi  were  given,  and  these  were  very  fine  :  the 
first  was  a  Morris  dance  with  torches  ;  the  second, 
Apollo  with  the  Nine  Muses  ;  the  third,  a  Morris 
dance    of  peasants   with  implements  of  labour,   who 

^  Rerum  Italicarum  Scriptores  (Ed.  Muratori,  1738),  vol.  xxiv. 
The  portions  of  Zambotti' s  Diary  referring  to  the  drama  have  re- 
cently been  collected  by  G.  Pardi  under  the  title,  //  teatro  classico 
a  Ferrara  {Atti  della  deputazione ferrarese  di  storia  patria,  vol.  xv.) 


JIntroDuction  xi 

made  their  exit  over  each  other's  shoulders,  to  the 
great  amusement  of  the  spectators.  Finally,  the  two 
Menaechmi  having  recognized  each  other,  one  of  them 
put  all  his  goods  up  by  auction,  offering  to  sell  them 
for  1 700  ounces  of  gold  with  his  wife  thrown  in,  and 
every  one  who  had  a  wife  that  did  not  suit  him  was 
advised  to  do  the  same.^  These  accompaniments  of 
classical  comedy  excited  greater  interest  in  the  minds 
of  some  of  the  spectators  than  the  play  itself.  Bembo, 
who  was  at  the  Carnival  at  Ferrara  in  1499,  makes 
mention  only  of  the  plays.  Writing  to  his  friend 
Angelo  Gabrieli  to  let  him  know  what  he  has  missed, 
he  says  that  three  comedies  were  acted,  two  of  Plau- 
tus,  the  Trinummus  and  the  PoenuluSy  and  one  of 
Terence,  the  Eunuchus  ,•  the  last  gave  so  much  pleas- 
ure that  it  was  repeated  a  second  and  even  a  third 
time. 2  But  Jano  Pencaro,3  writing  to  Isabella  d'  Este 
Gonzaga,  to  describe  the  festival,  says  very  httle  about 
the  comedies,  and  gives  elaborate  accounts  of  the  in- 
termezzi. Isabella  was  so  much  interested  that  she 
came  over  from  Mantua  a  few  weeks  later  and  enjoyed 
a  private  representation  o{  the  three  comedies,  select- 
ing the  Eunuchus  for  public  repetition.    In  her  letters 

'  No%ze  e  commedie  alia  corte  di  Ferrara  nel  Febbraio  I4gi  — 
Archi-vio  storico  lombardo.  Serie  seconda.  Vol.  1.  Anno  xi,  pp. 
751-3  (Anno  XI.  Milano,   1884). 

^  Epistolae  Familiares,  lib.  i,  no.  l8  :  Nam  ut  scias  quibus 
te  voluptatibus  defraudaveris,  tres  fabulae  actae  sunt  per  hos  dies, 
Plautinae  duae,  Trinummus  et  Penulus,  et  una  Terentdi,  Eunuchus: 
quae  quidem  ita  placuit,  ut  etiam  secundo  et  tertio  sit  relata. 

^  Commedie  classiche  in  Ferrara  nel  I4gg.  A.  Luzio  and  R. 
Renier  in  Giornale  Storico  della  Letteratura  Italiana,  xi,  177-189. 


xii  31ntrotiuction 

to  her  husband,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  she  says 
much  more  about  the  intermezzi  than  about  the  come- 
dies, though  she  shared  the  family  passion  for  the 
drama,  and  had  Plautus  and  Terence,  and  even  Seneca, 
in  her  library. 

Not  to  be  altogether  outdone  by  Ferrara,  Mantua 
held  a  dramatic  festival  at  the  Carnival  of  1501.  Sigis- 
mondo  Cantelmo,  writing  to  -the  Duke  of  Ferrara, 
gives  a  full  description  of  the  hall  used  as  a  theatre  ;  it 
was  adorned  with  pictures  by  Mantegna,  six  of  the 
triumph  of  Csesar  (probably  part  of  the  series  at 
Hampton  Court)  on  one  side,  and  the  triumphs  of 
Petrarch  below  and  in  front  of  the  stage  (Dintorno 
alia  scena  al  frontespitio  da  basso).  The  plays  were 
beautifully  and  charmingly  acted  —  on  Friday  the  Phi- 
lonico  ;  on  Saturday,  the  Poenulus  of  Plautus ;  on  Sunday 
the  Hippolytus ;  on  Monday  the  Adelphi  of  Terence, 
all  recited  in  the  very  best  style  by  competent  actors  to 
the  very  great  pleasure  and  appreciation  of  the  spectators.^ 

Mantua  was,  however,  far  outshone  by  Ferrara  in 
the  following  year,  when  Lucrezia  Borgia  was  wel- 
comed as  the  bride  of  Alfonso  d'  Este  with  entertain- 
ments of  unprecedented    magnificence.    Of  these  we 

^  "  Le  recitationi  sonno  state  belle  et  delectevole  :  Venere  fo  Phi- 
lonico  :  Sabato  il  Penulo  de  Plauto  :  Domenica  lo  Hippolito  :  Lu- 
nedi  li  Adelphi  de  Terentio,  da  persona  docte  recitate  optimamente 
con  grandissima  volupta  et  plausi  de  spectator!. "  —  //  teatro  manto- 
•vano  nel  secolo  xvi.  Alessandro  D'Ancona  in  Giornale  Storico  v, 
VI,  and  VII,  afterwards  reprinted  with  additions  in  Origini  del  teatro 
italiano  as  Appendix  11,  vol.  11,  p.  349  (ed.  1891).  Perhaps  for 
Fhilonko  we  should  read  Philodicus  :  on  this  point  see  D'  Ancona 
a.  s.  p.  381. 


31ntroDuction  xiii 

have  several  centemporary  accounts,  but  by  far  the 
most  interesting  is  that  of  Isabella  d'  Este  Gonzaga  in 
her  letters  to  her  husband,  who  stayed  at  Mantua. 
She  gives  first  a  description  of  the  great  hall  in  the 
Palazzo  della  Ragione,  to  which  her  father  took  her 
to  show  her  the  preparations  he  had  made  for  the  plays. 
On  one  side  seats  were  arranged  in  tiers,  with  two 
aisles  to  divide  the  women  from  the  men,  the  women 
sitting  in  the  middle  and  the  men  at  the  sides.  Oppo- 
site the  seats,  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall,  was  a  castle 
made  of  wood,  wdth  battlements  like  the  walls  of  a 
|dty,  and  about  the  height  of  a  man  :  upon  this  were 
•Jie  six  houses  for  the  comedies.  (Evidently  the  stage 
was  still  that  of  the  Sacre  Rappresentazioni).  The 
iheatre,  it  was  calculated,  would  hold  about  5,000 
persons  :  the  seats  were  for  visitors,  and  the  gentle- 
Tien  of  Ferrara  would  be  accommodated  as  far  as  there 
was  room  for  them  —  a  needful  limitation,  as  the 
population  of  Ferrara  about  this  time  was  estimated 
It  100,000.  In  later  letters  the  Marchioness  tells  her 
ausband  about  the  performance  of  the  plays  —  five 
Plautine  comedies,  Epidicus,  Bacchides,  Miles  Glori- 
isusy  Asinaria,  Casina.  The  Epidicus  did  not  please 
•Jie  Marchioness,  but  she  liked  the  intermezzi,  which 
.he  describes  at  some  length.  The  Bac chides  she  found 
iresome :  it  was  too  long,  and  there  were  only  two 
Morris  dances  :  she  wished  she  were  at  home  with  her 
lusband  and  her  little  boy. ' 

»  Noti-zie  di  Isabella  Estense.  Documenti  LXVII-LXXIII. 
I^onte  Carlo  d' Arco  in  Archifio  Storico  Italiano  Appendice  No.  1 1 
vol.  II  of  Appendices  to  Series  i.    Firenze,  1845). 


xiv  3IntroUuction 

Hercules  I  died  in  1505,  and  his  son,  Alfonso  I, 
was  fonder  of  casting  cannon  than  of  seeing  plays  ;  but 
he  was  not  without  interest  in  the  drama,  and  this  in- 
terest was  encouraged  and  supplemented  by  the  enthu- 
siasm of  his  brother.  Cardinal  Ippolito  d'  Este,  who 
numbered  among  his  suite  a  young  Ferrarese  poet  and 
courtier,  Lodovico  Ariosto.  Ariosto's  interest  in  the 
drama  began  almost  in  his  childhood.  A  room  is  still 
shown  to  visitors  in  his  father' s  house  at  Ferrara,  where 
as  a  boy  he  acted  plays  of  his  own  composition  with 
the  help  of  his  brothers.  ^  This  was  in  the  early  days 
of  the  dramatic  revival,  when  plays  on  classical  sub- 
jects were  being  acted,  but  their  form  and  manner  of 
presentation  were  still  those  of  the  Sacre  Rappresenta- 
zioni  ;  the  most  notable  example  of  this  mixed  type 
was  Yo\\7Az.no''%  f avoid  di  Orfeo  (acted  at  Mantua  in 
1 471)  before  it  was  re-cast  into  more  regular  tragic 
form  by  Tebaldeo.  Later  Ariosto  became  the  acknow- 
ledged leader  of  the  classical  school  of  comedy,  and 
the  chief  agent  of  Alfonso  I  in  his  various  dramatic 
projects.  As  early  as  1493  he  was  among  the  youths 
who' accompanied  Duke  Hercules  and  Don  Alfonso  to 
Milan  to  introduce  classical  comedy  at  the  court  of  Lo- 
dovico Sforza  and  Beatrice  d'  Este.  At  different  times 
he  translated  plays  of  Terence  and  Plautus  for  the  dra- 
matic festivals  then  so  much  in  vogue  ;  he  planned  the 
theatre  built  by  Alfonso  I,  a  splendid  edifice  which  was 
burnt  down  on  the  first  day  of  Ariosto's  fatal  illness  ; 
he  superintended  the  production  of  the  plays  and  some- 
times took  part  in  the  acting,  =^  occupying  a  position 

*  I  Roman'zi.    G.  B.  Pigna.  Venice.     1554.  p.  72. 

*  See  his  brother  Gabriele's  prologue  to  the  Scolauica. 


31ntroDuction  xv 

apparently  very  similar  to  that  of  the  Master  of  the 
Revels  at  the  English  Court.  But  his  great  and  lasting 
service  to  the  drama  was  the  composition  of  his  come- 
dies, the  first  of  which,  the  Cassariay  was  acted  at 
Ferrara  in  1508.  It  was  remarkable,  not  only  as  the 
first  modern  drama,  but  as  giving  occasion  for  the  first 
recorded  use  of  modern  scenery.  Bernardino  Prosperi, 
in  a  letter  to  Isabella  Gonzaga,  mentions  as  the  great 
feature  of  the  entertainments  the  wonderful  scenery 
painted  by  Pellegrino  da  Udine,  a  landscape  in  per- 
spective with  houses,  churches,  steeples,  and  gardens 
that  the  audience  never  tired  of  looking  at  :  he  thinks 
it  will  not  be  thrown  aside,  but  kept  for  use  another 
time.' 

Ariosto's  first  play  was  closely  followed  by  the  one 
]  in  which  we  are  particularly  interested,  Gli  Soppositi,^ 
adjudged  by  competent  Italian  critics  to  be  the  best  of 
his  five  comedies.  It  was  acted  at  the  carnival  of  i  509, 
and  we  are  again  indebted  to  Prosperi' s  letter  to  the 
Marchioness  of  Mantua  for  an  account  of  the  perfor- 
mance :  **  On  Thursday  evening  the  Cardinal  pre- 
sented his  comedy,  composed  by  Lodovico  Ariosto, 
for  a  modern  comedy  quite  delightful  and   full  of  wise 

^  The  whole  question  of  the  origin  of  modern  scenery  has  been 
treated  by  Eduard  Flechsig  in  Die  Dekoration  der  modernen  Biihne 
in  Italien  'von  den  Anfdngen  bis  "zum  Schluss  des  xvi.  Jahrhunderti 
(Dresden,  1894)  and  by  G.  Ferrari  in  La  Scenografia  (Milano, 
1902).  The  transition  from  mediaeval  to  modern  stage-setting  has 
been  discussed  recently  by  Messrs.  Rigal,  Lanson,  and  Haraszti  in 
La  revue  d^ histoire  litteraire  de  la  France  (1903—5)  and  by  Dr. 
G.  F.  Reynolds  in  Modern  Philology  (1904-5). 

*  So  the  earlier  prose  version  appears  to  have  been  called. 


xvi  BIntrotJuction 

sayings  and  laughable  speeches  and  gestures  with  triple 
deceits  or  substitutions.  The  argument  was  recited  by 
the  author,  and  is  very  fine,  admirably  adapted  to  our 
manners  and  customs,  for  the  incidents  happened  at 
Ferrara,  so  he  pretends,  as  I  think  that  perhaps  your 
Ladyship  has  heard,  and  therefore  I  do  not  go  on  to 
narrate  it  at  greater  length.  The  intermezzi  were  all 
of  songs  and  music,  and  at  the  end  of  the  comedy  Vul- 
can with  the  Cyclops  forged  arrows  to  the  sound  of 
fifes,  beating  time  with  hammers  and  with  bells  at- 
tached to  their  legs,  and  having  finished  this  business 
of  the  arrows  with  the  blowing  of  bellows,  they  made 
a  Morris  dance  with  the  said  hammers."  ^ 

About  the  same  time  that  classical  comedy  was  re-j 
vived  at  Ferrara,  similar  performances  were  given  at 
Florence^  and  Rome;  but  both  these  cities  lacked  thej 
stimulus  of  a  dynasty  continuously  interested  in  the! 
drama.  The  performances  at  Rome  were  in  Latin,[ 
and  were  due  to  the  initiative  of  the  great  classics 
scholar,  Pomponius  Laetus.3  But  it  was  not  until  the 
great  Medicean  Pope,  Leo  X,  came  to  the  throne,  that] 
the  Roman  court  vied  with  Ferrara  in  the  splendourj 

^  The  writer's  meaning  is  sometimes  doubtful.     See  the  Italian' 
text  in  the  Notes^  p.   107. 

^  Di  altre  recita'zioni  di  commedie  lat'tne  in   Firetize  nel  secolo 
XV.    Isidoro  Del  Lungo  in  Archi-vio   Storico   Italiano,  Serie  3a,M| 
Tom.  xxiii.  Anno  1876,  pp.   170-5.  11 

2   Pomponii  Laeti  Vita.     M.  Antonius  Sabellicus.     '*  Pari  studio      1 
veterem  spectandi  consuetudinem  desuetae  civitati   restituit,  primo- 
rum   antistitum  atriis  pro  theatro  usus,   in  quibus  Plauti,  Terentii, 
recentiorum  etiam  quaedam  agerentur  fabulae,  quas   ipse   honestos 
adolescentes  et  docuit  et  agentibus  praefuit. ' ' 


31ntroDuction  xvii 

of  its  dramatic  performances.  Ariosto  had  declined  to 
follow  his  patron.  Cardinal  Ippolito,  into  Hungary,  and 
was  induced  to  re-write  the  Suppositi  in  verse  for  repre- 
sentation at  Rome.  A  letter  to  Alfonso  d'Este  from 
Alfonso  Pauluzzo,  dated  March  8,  15 19,  gives  a  full 
account  of  the  performance,  which  took  place  on  a 
Sunday  evening  in  the  palace  of  the  Pope's  nephew. 
Cardinal  Cibo.  His  Holiness  himself  took  charge  of 
the  door,  and  with  quiet  dignity  admitted  whom  he 
would.  On  one  side  of  the  hall  was  the  stage,  on  the 
other  the  seats  graded  from  the  ceiling  to  the  floor.  In 
front  was  the  seat  of  the  Pontifex,  approached  by  five 
steps,  and  surrounded  by  places  for  the  ambassadors 
and  cardinals  according  to  their  rank;  in  all  there  were 
about  2000  people  present.  The  curtain  fell  to  the 
sound  of  fifes,  and  the  Pope  with  his  eye-glass  admired 
the  scene,  which  was  very  beautiful,  painted  by  Ra- 
phael, and  representing  Ferrara  '  in  perspectives,  which 
were  highly  praised.  The  Pope  also  admired  the  beau- 
tiful representation  of  the  sky  and  the  chandeliers, 
formed  in  letters,  which  supported  five  torches  each, 
and  read  LEO  X.  PON.  MAXIMUS.  Then  the 
Prologue  came  on  the  stage  and  recited  the  argument, 
which  made  jesting  allusion  to  the  scene  and  title  of 
the  comedy,  so  that  the  Pope  laughed  gaily  enough 
with  the  by-standers,  although  some  Frenchmen  were 
scandalized  at  the  jokes  about  the  Suppositi.  The 
comedy  was  well  spoken,  with  musical  interludes  after 
each  act.    The   last   intermezzo  was  a  Morris  dance 

^  AdemoUo's   reading  of  the  text,  which  will  be  found  in  the 
Notes^  pp.   107-08. 


xviii  3(|ncroDuction 

representing  the  story  of  Gorgon,  and  was  very  fine, 
but  not  equal,  in  the  opinion  of  the  Ferrarese  courtier, 
to  those  he  had  seen  in  the  hall  of  his  master.  There 
was  a  great  crush  coming  out,  and  Pauluzzo  nearly 
broke  his  leg,  so  that  he  had  to  cry  out  guarda  la  mia 
gamba.  There  was  much  talk  of  Messer  Lodovico 
Ariosto  and  of  his  excellence  in  this  art;  but  some 
thought  it  was  a  pity  that  indecent  speeches  should  be 
made  in  the  presence  of  His  Holiness;  **  and  indeed  " 
adds  Pauluzzo  '  *  at  the  beginning  of  the  comedy  there 
are  some  passages  which  are  rather  blue  ' '  ( alcune  pa- 
role rematice). 

Attention  has  been  called  to  the  conditions  under 
which  these  plays  were  acted  in  order  that  the  reader 
may  realize  the  position  held  by  the  drama  in  the  court 
life  of  the  Italian  Renascence.  Englishmen  travelling 
in  Italy  could  not  fail  to  hear  of  these  spectacles  and 
talk  of  them  after  their  return  home.  The  rise  of  court 
comedy  in  London  may  be  safely  attributed  to  Italian 
example,  for  those  who  had  not  had  the  opportunity 
of  seeing  Ariosto' s  comedies  could  read  them  in  the 
numerous  editions  published  before  Elizabeth's  acces- 
sion. The  type  of  Italian  classical  comedy  of  which 
the  Suppositi  is  the  best  example  was  accepted  as  the 
model  for  Ariosto' s  successors.  Giraldi  Cinthio  writes 
in  his  Discorso  sulle  Comedie  e  sulk  Tragedie  that 
**the  only  comedies  worthy  of  praise  to-day  .  .  . 
are  those  which  imitate   the  comedies   of  Ariosto."  ^ 

^  Ed.  G.  Daelli,  p.  23  :  "  Tra  noi  oggidi  le  lodevoli  sono  di 
una  sola  maniera,  e  sono  quelle  che  imitano  quelle  dell'  Ariosto." 
Aretino  and  Cecchi  give  Ariosto  the  highest  praise  in  their  prologues, 


BIntrotJuctton  xix 

Indeed  the  tvpe  invented  by  Ariosto  was  admirably 
adapted  for  the  Italy  of  the  sixteenth  century.  He 
acknowledged  his  indebtedness  to  Plautus  and  Ter- 
ence/ and  this  ^athercommended  him  to  an  age  eager 
for  classical  culture  and  proud  of  its  acquirements. 
The  chief  characters  of  Latin  comedy  were  taken  over 
bodily,  but  skilfully  adapted  to  modern  conditions  of 
society,  and  placed  in  surroundings  familiar  to  the 
spectators.  Bibbiena's  Calandra  (1513)2  and  Machia- 
velH's  Mandr agora  (1525)  showed  with  what  vigour 
and  freedom  contemporary  life  could  be  pourtrayed 
within  the  limits  of  the  new  form  oi  dramatic  art. 
Grazzini  indeed  poked  fun  at  the  writers  of  new 
comedies  which  other  people  had  made  before,  and 
scoffed  at  the  authority  of  the  classics.     **  Aristotle  and 

and  a  recent  critic,  Vincenzo  De  Amicis,  describes  the  work  of 
Ariosto  as  comprising  in  brief  the  whole  history  of  Italian  comedy 
(un  riassunto  di  tutta  la  storia  della  commedia  italiana). 

'  See  extract  from  Prologue  to  Gli  Soppodti,  on  p.  iii.  The 
actual  borrowings  in  the  play  are  given  in  Kehrli,  In  den  Opere 
Minori  des  L.  Ariosto,  pp.  39-40.  Guido  Marpillero  in  the 
Giornale  Storico  della  Letter atur a  Italiana,  vol.  xxxi,  pp.  291— 
310,  has  shown  that  Ariosto  was  indebted  to  other  Latin  comedies 
beside  the  two  he  mentions.  He  takes  not  only  the  stock  charac- 
ters—  the  greedy  parasite,  the  scheming  slave,  the  doting  father  — 
and  familiar  devices  —  lost  children,  disguises,  and  accidental  re- 
cognitions—  but  particular  jests  and  scraps  of  dialogue.  He  shows, 
however,  genuine  power  to  assimilate  his  material,  and  his  added 
touches  of  local  colour  come  easily  and  naturally  into  a  play  which 
is  indeed  a  transition  product,  but  is  inspired  throughout  with  his 
own  graceful  and  vivacious  wit. 

'^  The  date  of  this  play  was  formerly  put  at  1504—8,  preceding 
that  of  Ariosto' s  first  comedy,  but  the  point  was  set  beyond  doubt 
by  Vernarecci.     See  D'Ancona,  11,  pp.    102-4, 


XX  3|ntroDuction 

Horace  observed  their  own  times,  but  ours  are  of  an- 
other fashion.  We  have  different  customs,  a  different 
religion,  a  different  manner  of  life,  and  therefore  our 
comedies  ought  to  be  made  in  a  different  way.  In 
Florence  people  don't  live  as  they  used  to  do  in  Athens 
and  Rome.  There  are  no  slaves  here,  nor  are  we 
accustomed  to  adopted  children,  or  to  pimps  who  sell 
young  girls. "  ^  .  .  .  Cecchi  made  a  similar  appeal  for 
a  newer  type  of  comedy  in  the  Prologue  to  La  Roma- 
7iesca ;  2  but  the  plea  fell  on  deaf  ears  or  was  supported 
by  no  voice  pow^erful  enough  to  make  itself  heard. 
Italian  comedy  dwindled  for  long  years  as  a  literary 
form;  it  was  not  until  the  eighteenth  century  that  it 
was  revived  by  the  quick  wit  and  facile  pen  of 
Goldoni. 

The  grace  and  spirit  (and  perhaps,  too,  the  licen- 
tiousness) of  Ariosto's  comedies  commended  them  to 
foreigners  as  well  as  to  his  own  countrymen.  The 
English  Puritan  Gosson  (who  was  himself  the  author, 
in  his  unregenerate  days,  of  **a  cast  of  Italian  devises, 
called  The  Comedie  of  Captaine  Mario")  shows  by 
a  passage  in  The  Schooie  of  Abuse  3  that  the  new  class- 

^  Prologue  to  La  Strega  (Venice,  1582),  p.  7.  Curiously 
enough,  in  this  very  play  Grazzini  borrowed  freely  from  the  Sup- 
postti.  See  Delle  Commedie  di  Grazzini,  G.  Gentile  in  Antiali 
della  R.  Scuola  Normale  Superiore  di  Pisa,  vol.  xix  (1897),  esp. 
pp.  87-100. 

^  Translated  by  Symonds.  Shakspere'' s  Predecessors  (1884), 
pp.  260-1. 

^  "  Here  I  doubt  not  but  some  Archeplayer  or  other  that  hath 
read  a  little  or  stumbled  by  chance  upon  Plautus  Comedies,  will 
cast  mee  a  bone  or  two  to  pick,  saying,  that  whatsoever  these  an- 


3|ntrotJuction  xxi 

ical  comedy  was  well  known  in  London  in  1579,  ^^^ 
Gascoigne's  Supposes  \-v2iS  doubtless  among  the  **bau- 
die  comedies"  translated  out  of  the  Italian  he  con- 
demns in  Playes  Confuted  in  Five  Actions  (1582), 
though  he  refers  specially  to  the  London  playhouses, 
and  so  far  as  we  know,  the  Supposes  was  presented 
only  at  Gray's  Inn  in  1566,  and  Trinity  College, 
Oxford,  in  1582.^  Dr.  Schiicking  ^  has  attempted  to 
find  earlier  traces  of  Italian  influence  on  English  com- 
edy without  much  success:  indeed  Mr.  R.  Warwick 
Bond  describes  his  thesis  as  **  somewhat  of  an  effort  to 
make  bricks  without  straw."  Undoubtedly  the  Sup- 
poses is  at  once  the  earliest  and  most  important  piece  of 
evidence  we  have  as  to  the  relations  between  Italian 
and  early  Enghsh  comedy.  3    With  respect  to  its  liter- 

cient  writers  have  spoken  against  plaies  is  to  be  applied  to  the 
abuses  in  olde  Comedies,  where  Gods  are  broughte  in,  as  Prisoners 
to  beautie,  ravishers  of  Virgins,  and  servantes  by  love,  to  earthly  crea- 
tures. But  the  Comedies  that  are  exercised  in  our  dayes  are  better 
sifted.  They  shewe  no  such  branne  :  The  first  smelte  of  Plautus : 
These  tast  of  Menander:  The  lewdenes  of  Gods,  is  altred  and  changed 
to  the  love  of  young  men  :  force  to  friendshippe  ;  rapes  to  mar- 
iage  :  wooing  allowed  by  assurance  of  wedding,  privie  meetinges 
of  bachelours  and  maidens  on  the  stage,  not  as  murderers  that  de- 
voure  the  good  name  ech  of  other  in  their  mindes,  but  as  those 
that  desire  to  bee  made  one  in  hearte.  Nowe  are  the  abuses  of  the 
\'.  orlde  revealed,  every  man  in  a  playe  may  see  his  owne  faultes, 
and  learne  by  this  glasse,  to  amende  his  manners."  Shakespeare 
S:i!ety,  1 841,  pp.   20-21. 

^  Diary  of  the  Re-v.  Richard  Madox,  Oxon.  (MS.  in  British 
Museum),  1582,  Jan.  8.  "So  went  we  to  Trinity  .  .  .  and  after 
;2\v  the  Supposes  handled  in  their  hall  indifferently." 

^  Die  Stojfflichen  Be-ziehungen  der  EngUschen  Komodie  "zur 
Italienischen  bis  Lilly      Halle,   1 90 1. 

^    The  Bugbears^  an    Italian   adaptation   apparently  of  somewhat 


xxii  iflntrotiuction 

ary  merits  an  influence,  I  cannot  do  better  than  quote 
the  admirable  appreciation  of  Professor  Gayley  in  the 
Historical  View  of  English  Comedy  : 

**  If  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  The  Supposes  (acted 
1566)  is  a  translation  of  Ariosto's  play  of  the  same 
tide,  I  should  be  inclined  to  say  that  it  was  the  first 
English  comedy  in  every  way  worthy  of  the  name.  It 
certainly  is,  for  many  reasons,  entitled  to  be  called  the 
first  comedy  in  the  English  tongue.  It  is  written,  not 
for  children,  nor  to  educate,  but  for  grown-ups  and 
solely  to  delight.  It  is  done  into  English,  not  for  the 
\'Tilgar,  but  for  the  more  advanced  taste  of  the  transla- 
tor's own  Inn  of  Court;  it  has,  therefore,  quahdes  to 
captivate  those  who  are  capable  of  appreciating  high 
comedy.  It  is  composed,  like  its  original,  in  straight- 
forward, sparkHng  prose.  It  has,  also,  the  rarest  fea- 
tures of  the  fusion  drama:  it  combines  character  and 
situation,  each  depending  upon  the  other;  it  combines 
wit  of  intellect  with  humour  of  heart  and  fact,  intricate 
and  varied  plot  with  motive  and  steady  movement, 
comic  but  not  farcical  incident  and  language  with  com- 
plications surprising,  serious,  and  only  not  hopelessly 
embarrassing.  It  conducts  a  romantic  intrigue  in  a 
realisdc  fashion  through  a  world  oi  actualities.  With 
the  blood  of  the  New  Comedy,  the  Latin  Comedy,  the 
Renaissance  in  its  veins,  it  is  far  ahead  of  its  English 
contemporaries,  if  not  of  its  time.  Without  historical 
apology  or  artisric  concessions  it  would  act  well  to-day. 
Both  whimsical  and  grave,  its  ironies  are  pro  bono  pub- 

later  date,  was  not  printed  till  1897,  when  it  appeared  in  Archiv 
fur  das  Studium  der  neueren  Sprachen  98—99. 


3(lntroDuction  xxiii 

lico;  it  is  constructive  as  well  as  critical,  imaginative 
as  well  as  actual.  Indeed,  when  one  compares  Gas- 
coigne's  work  with  the  original  and  observes  the  just 
liberties  that  he  has  taken,  the  Englishing  of  sentiment 
as  well  as  of  phrase,  one  is  tempted  to  say,  with  Tom 
Nashe,  that  in  comedy,  as  in  other  fields,  this  writer 
first  *  beat  a  path  to  that  perfection  which  our  best 
poets  have  aspired  to  since  his  departure.'  He  did  not 
contrive  the  plot;  but  no  dramatist  before  him  had  se- 
lected for  his  audience,  translated,  and  adapted  a  play 
so  amusing  and  varied  in  interest,  so  graceful,  simple, 
and  idiomatic  in  its  style.  It  was  said  by  R.  T.,  in 
1615,  that  Gascoigne  was  one  of  those  who  first 
*  broke  the  ice  for  our  quainter  poets  v^ho  now  write, 
that  they  may  more  safely  swim  through  the  main  ocean 
of  sweet  poesy,' — a  remark  which  would  lose  much  of 
its  force  if  restricted  to  the  poet's  achievements  in  sa- 
tire alone;  in  the  drama  of  the  humanists  he  excelled 
his  contemporaries,  and  in  the  romantic  comedy  of  in- 
trigue he  anticipated  those  who,  like  Greene  and 
Shakespeare,  adapted  the  Italian  plot  to  Enghsh  man- 
ners and  the  English  taste.  Nor  are  these  the  only 
claims  of  Gascoigne  to  consideration:  The  Supposes,  as 
Professor  Herford  has  justly  remarked,  is  the  most 
Jonsonian  of  English  Comedies  before  Jonson."  ^ 

As  to  the  intrinsic  merits  of  Gascoigne' s  Supposes 
opinions  may  differ,  and  doubtless  there  are  some  who 
will  hold  Professor  Gayley's  praise  exaggerated;  but 
there  can  be  no  question  about  the  influence  of  the  play 
upon  the  subsequent  development  of  the  English  drama. 

*  Representatife  English  Comedies^  pp.  bcxxiv— v. 


xxiv  31ntrotiuctton 

Farmer,  in  his  Essay  on  the  Learning  of  Shakespeare, 
pointed  out  how  largely  The  Tami?ig  of  the  Shrew 
was  indebted  to  the  Suppose s,"^  and  more  recently  the 
careful  analysis  of  Professor  Tolman  has  shown  that 
this  indebtedness  extends  not  only  to  The  Taming  of  a 
Shrew  but  to  Shakespeare's  additions  to  the  older  play.^ 
It  is  possible,  too,  that  Gascoigne's  translation  influ- 
enced another  of  his  greatest  contemporaries  —  Ed- 
mund Spenser,  who,  we  learn  from  Gabriel  Harvey's 
letter,  wrote  nine  comedies  after  Ariosto's  manner. 
Two  years  after  Harvey  had  acquired  his  copy  of  Gas- 
coigne's Posies y  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Spenser,3  <*I 
am  voyde  of  al  judgement,  if  your  Nine  Comoedies, 
where  unto  in  imitation  of  Herodotus^  you  give  the 
names  of  the  Nine  Muses y  (  and  in  one  mans  fansie  not 
unworthily)  come  not  neerer  Ariostoes  Comoedies y 
eyther  for  the  finenesse  of  plausible  Elocution,  or  the 
rarenesse  of  Poetical  Invention  than  that  Elvish  Queene 
doth  to  his  Orlando  Furioso."  But  the  Nine  Come- 
dies have  perished,  and  we  cannot  compare  the  Italian 
comedy  of  Gascoigne  with  those  of  his  more  illustrious 
successor  in  EngHsh  poetry. 

In  his  choice  of  an  Italian  tragedy  Gascoigne  was  less 
happy,  but  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  he  had  far  less 

^  Edition  of  1767,  p.  31.  Eighteenth  Century  Essays  on 
Shakespeare  (Ed.  by  D.  Nichol  Smith),  p.  201. 

^  Publications  of  the  Modern  Language  Association  of  America, 
Vol.  V,  No.  4,  There  is  an  excellent  summary  of  Professor  Tol- 
man's  conclusions  in  Professor  Schelling's  Life  and  Writings  of 
Gascoigne,  pp.  43—4. 

^  Three  proper  and  ivittie  familiar  letters  .  .  .  imprinted  at  Lon- 
don by  H.  Bynneman,  1580,  p.  50. 


3|ntroUuction  xxv 

to  choose  from.  Italian  tragedy  was  much  slower  in  its 
development  and  never  attained  either  the  vigorous  life  or 
the  perfection  of  form  of  Renascence  comedy.  Seneca's 
tragedies  were,  it  is  true,  at  a  very  early  date  imitated 
at  Padua,  lectured  upon  at  Florence,  printed  at  Ferrara, 
and  acted  at  Rome:  the  masterpieces  of  Attic  tragedy, 
though  less  familiar,  were  not  unknown.  The  first 
regular  Italian  tragedy,  Trissino's  Sofonisbdy  was,  in- 
deed, planned  upon  Greek  rather  than  Roman  models; 
but  though  written  in  15  15  and  printed  in  1524,  it 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  acted  till  1562.  It  was 
not  without  influence,  for  it  imposed  the  unity  of  time 
upon  ItaHan  tragedy,  and  made  unrhymed  verse  its 
characteristic  measure;  but  in  spite  of  the  pomp  with 
which  it  was  presented  at  Vicenza  under  the  auspices 
of  the  Olympic  Academy,  Palladio  designing  the  stage 
setting,  the  development  of  tragedy  was  due  to  other 
examples.  Among  these  the  most  potent  was  the  Or- 
becche  of  Giambattista  Giraldi  Cinthio,  acted  at  Fer- 
rara in  I  541,  first  in  his  owm  house  before  Hercules  II, 
and  afterwards  before  the  Cardinals  of  Ravenna  and 
Salviati.  Giraldi,  it  is  true,  in  the  prologue  to  the  Or- 
becchcy  pays  a  tribute  to  the  noble  Trissino,  who  first 
of  all  brought  tragedy  to  the  banks  of  the  Arno  from 
the  Tiber  and  the  Ilissus. '  But  Luigi  Groto,  a  genera- 
tion later,  in  the  dedication  of  his  Dalida,  speaks  of  the 
Orbecche  as  the  model  of  all  subsequent  tragedies.  It 
undoubtedly  marks  a  crucial  stage  in  the  development 

^  El  Trissino  gentil  che  col  suo  canto 
Prima  d'ognun  dal  Tebro  e  da  1  Iliso 
Gia  trasse  la  Tragedia  a  1  onde  d'Arno. 


xxvi  31ntrotiuction 

of  Italian  tragedy.  Trissino  and  his  followers  had  en- 
deavoured to  copy  Greek  models ;  ^  Giraldi  brought  the 
Italians  back  to  the  example  of  Seneca,  which  had  pre- 
vailed at  an  earlier  date  in  the  Latin  tragedies  such 
as  the  Prog?ie  of  Gregorio  Corrarro  (modelled  on  the 
Thyestes^  and  in  the  loose  plays  on  the  lines  of  the  Sacre 
Rappresentazioni,  such  as  Cammelli's  PanJUa,  in  which 
the  ghost  of  Seneca  speaks  the  prologue.  Not  only  is 
the  Orbecche  in  the  regular  Senecan  form  of  five  acts, 
each  terminated  by  a  chorus,  but  Seneca's  ghosts  and 
other  horrors  are  re-introduced  to  run  a  not  inglorious 
career  in  Renascence  tragedy.  Nemesis,  the  Furies,  and 
a  ghost  open  the  play,  which  is  obviously  planned  on 
the  lines  of  the  Thyestes.  It  was  acted  with  success  in 
various  places  in  Italy  and  abroad,  and  always  made 
such  an  impression  on  the  minds  of  the  spectators  that 
they  could  not  refrain  from  sobs  and  lamentation. ^  The 
play  was  printed  in  1543,  two  years  after  its  first  pro- 
duction, and  in  this  way  exercised  a  far  reaching  influ- 
ence; but  Giraldi' s  main  importance  is  that  he  wrote, 
not  for  the  study,  but  the  stage.  We  have  seen  that 
the  theatre  built  at  Ferrara  by  Alfonso  I  was  burnt 

*  This  point  is  well  brought  out  by  Dr.  Ferdinando  Neri  in  his 
recent  essay  La  tragedia  ttaliana  del  cinquecento,  p.  4 1  • 

*  Giraldi's  Discorso,  u.  s.  p.  17:  quelle  che  ogni  volta  vi  erano 
venute,  non  poteano  contenere  i  singhiozzi  e  i  pianti.  ...  I  giu- 
diziosi  non  solo  non  I'hanno  biasimata,  ma  trovata  degna  di  tanta 
lode,  che  in  molti  luoghi  dell'  Italia  e  stata  solennemente  rappre- 
sentata,  e  gia  tanto  oltre  fu  grata  che  ella  favella  in  tutte  le  lingue  che 
hanno  cognizione  della  nostra,  e  non  si  sdegno  il  re  Cristianissimo 
volere  che  nella  sua  lingua  ella  facesse  di  se  avanti  sua  maesta  solenne 
mostra. 


3|ntrotiuction  xxvii 

down  in  1532,  almost  as  soon  as  it  was  completed;  but 
the  interest  of  the  Estes  in  the  drama  continued.  Cle- 
ment Marot  in  his  nuptial  song  for  Renee  of  France 
on  her  marriage  to  Hercules  (afterwards  Hercules  II) 
mentions  theatrical  performances  among  the  entertain- 
ments given  in  her  honour.  As  Duke,  Hercules  arranged 
with  Giraldi  for  the  composition  and  performance  of 
dramas,  suggested  the  subject  of  Cleopatra,  and  dis- 
cussed the  conditions  of  representation.^  Giraldi' s  son, 
in  dedicating  the  Epitia  after  his  father's  death  to  the 
Duchess  of  Ferrara,  lays  stress  on  the  fact  that  it  was 
never  acted:  the  presumption  is  that  the  others  were, 
and  as  to  the  performance  of  five  out  of  the  nine  we  have 
positive  records.  Very  likely  Giraldi  was  the  author  of 
the  tragedy  acted  at  Ferrara  in  1568,  about  which  the 
Medicean  ambassador,  Canigiani,  was  so  sarcastic:  he 
said  it  fulfilled  both  the  ends  of  tragedy  set  forth  by 
Aristotle,  viz.,  anger  and  compassion,  for  it  made  the 
spectators  angry  with  the  poet  and  sorry  for  themselves. 
As  a  rule,  however,  Giraldi  met  with  a  large  share  of 
pubhc  approval,  and  he  was  able,  as  we  have  seen, 
in  replying  to  his  critics,  to  refer  to  the  applause  with 
which  his  work  was  received.  He  made  remarkable 
advances  towards  the  romantic  drama:  the  Altiie,  which 
was  already  written  in  1543,  is  the  first  tragedy  with 
a  happy  ending,  and  only  two  of  his  plots  are  taken  from 
classical  sources,  the  other  seven  coming  from  his  own 
collection  of  novels,  the  Ecatommiti.    The  Arrenopiay 

'  See  Appendix  to  Dido  and  letters  from  Giraldi  to  the  Duke 
published  by  Campori  in  Atti  e  memorie  .  .  .  per  le  provincie  mo- 
densi  eparmend.     Vol.  viii,  Fasc.  4  (1876). 


xxviii  Jlntronuction 

composed  about  1562,  is  distinctly  romantic  in  char- 
acter, but  it  was  not  printed  till  1583,  and  it  seems 
difficult  to  establish  any  connection  between  Giraldi 
and  the  early  English  drama  beyond  the  indebtedness 
of  Measure  for  Measure  through  Whetstone's  Promos 
and  Cassatidra.^ 

Lodovico  Dolce  was  a  man  of  smaller  originality 
than  Giraldi,  but  he  was  a  voluminous  writer  and  ap- 
pears to  have  been  well  known  in  the  England  of 
Elizabeth.  Lodge  translated  some  of  his  sonnets, ^  and 
the  prologue  of  Gismond  of  Salem e  (Inner  Temple, 
1567-8)  is  obviously  taken  from  that  of  Dolce's  Dido 
(printed  in  1547).  He  was  born  in  Venice  in  1508, 
and  died  there  in  1568,  but  he  wandered  much,  and  led 
the  life  of  the  poor  scholar,  with  litde  profit  to  himself. 
Much  of  his  work  was  done  for  the  Venetian  publish- 
ers Gioliti,  in  whose  printing-office  he  seems  to  have 
turned  his  hand  to  whatever  task  was  appointed  him. 
Homer,  Euripides,  Plautus,  Vergil,  Cicero,  Ovid, 
Horace,  Seneca  were  among  the  authors  he  translated 
in  his  rather  loose  fashion;  his  version  of  the  Odyssey 
is  described  as  a  story  taken  from  Homer  rather  than 
a  translation.  He  himself  made  no  claim  to  exactitude, 
and  asserted  his  right  to  deal  freely  with  his  material. 
Unfortunately  he  departed  far  enough  from  his  text  to 
forfeit  all  claim  to  accuracy  as  a  translator,  and  did  not 

*  Even  this  debt  was  not  to  the  playwright  Giraldi,  but  to  the 
novelist,  as  in  the  cases  of  Greene's  Jama  IV^  and  Othello. 

^  Pointed  out  by  Max  Th.  W.  Forster  in  Modern  Philologyy 
vol.  II,  p.  150,  and  Sidney  Lee  in  Introduction  to  Elizabethan  Son- 
nets (English  Garner,  1904.),  pp.  Ixv  and  Ixxiii. 


31ntrotiuction  xxix 

add  enough  of  his  own  to  merit  praise  for  onginality  of 
treatment.  The  Italian  critics  of  his  work  say  that  he 
knew  no  Greek,  and  his  mode  of  dealing  with  the 
Phoenissae  of  Euripides  justifies  this  supposition.  A 
Latin  translation  of  Euripides  had  been  published  at 
Basel  by  R.  Winter  in  1541,  and  to  this  it  appears 
that  Dolce  had  recourse.  Line  982  of  the  Aldine  edi- 
tion of  the  Greek  text  (1503),  upon  which  most  sub- 
sequent editions  were  founded,  reads  ©eo-TrpoDTwv  ovSa?. 
So  does  the  Basel  edition  of  Hervagius  (1537),  and  no 
edition  I  have  been  able  to  consult  gives  the  Greek 
reading  underlying  Dolce' s 

N'  andrai  al  terreno  di  Tesbroti. 

But  the  Latin  translation  of  1541  does  give  *«Ad 
solum  Thesbrotorum."  It  is  curious  that  this  Italian 
version  of  a  Latin  translation  of  the  Phoenissae y  when 
reduced  to  EngUsh,  should  have  been  passed  off  on  the 
learned  society  of  Grays  Inn  in  1566  as  a  translation 
from  the  Greek;  and  still  more  curious  that  it  should 
have  been  accepted  as  such  by  three  centuries  of  Eng- 
lish critics.  The  indebtedness  of  the  Jocasta  of  Gas- 
coigne  and  Kinwelmersh  to  Dolce' s  tragedy  was  first 
pointed  out  by  Professor  J.  P.  MahafFy  in  his  litde  book 
on  Euripides  (Classical  Writers  Series),  published  in 
1879;  afterwards  by  J.  A.  Symonds  in  his  Predeces- 
sors of  Shakspere  (1884),  where  it  attracted  more 
general  attention.  The  closeness  with  which  the  Eng- 
lish translators  stuck  to  then*  Italian  text  (except  in  the 
choruses)  is  made  clear  for  the  first  time  in  the  parallel 
text  and  notes  foUowing. 


XXX  3Itttrotiuction 

The  translators  of  Dolce,  it  will  be  seen,  added 
practically  nothing  to  their  original.  Gascoigne  treated 
Ariosto  with  greater  freedom,  and,  as  Professor  Gay- 
ley  points  out,  showed  considerable  ingenuity  in  adapt- 
ing Italian  names  and  customs  to  English  usages.  He 
added,  too,  a  rather  heavy-handed  morality  and  an 
occasional  grossness  which  detract  in  some  degree  from 
the  effectiveness  of  the  original  play.  But  the  substan- 
tial merits  of  Ariosto' s  comedy,  its  light  and  easy  dia- 
logue, its  genuine  wit  and  humour,  are  successfully  con- 
veyed into  a  prose,  which,  indeed,  will  hardly  bear 
comparison  with  the  Italian,  but  is  of  conspicuous  merit 
among  our  own  early  comedies.  This  is  Gascoigne' s 
real  contribution  to  the  development  of  English  drama, 
and  it  is  one  of  no  small  moment.  Renascence  com- 
edy and  tragedy,  for  causes  which  do  not  here  concern 
us,  were  doomed  in  Italy  to  early  decay:  transplanted 
to  England,  under  different  conditions  of  national  tem- 
per, intellectual  outlook,  and  theatrical  opportunity, 
they  helped  to  produce  the  form  of  art  which  is  the 
greatest  glory  of  the  Elizabethan  age. 


^«ppo0ejs 


THE   TEXT 

The  text  adopted  in  this  edition  of  the  Supposes  and  Jocasta  is 
that  of  1575  (Q2)  "  corrected,  perfected,  and  augmented  by  the 
Authour,"  the  title-page  of  which  is  here  reproduced  in  facsimile 
from  the  Bodleian  copy,  which  once  belonged  to  Gabriel  Harvey. 
Q2  was  practically  a  reprint  of  Qi,  issued  by  the  same  publisher 
in  1573  with  Gascoigne's  authority,  as  already  noted  (p,  v)  : 
most,  but  not  all,  of  the  list  of  "  faultes  escaped  correction  "  in  Qi 
are  amended  in  Q2,  and  the  side-notes  are  added.  Q3  (1587)  is 
a  reprint  of  Qa,  repeating  its  errors  and  adding  a  few  others.  The 
original  spelling  of  ^2  has  been  followed,  except  that  abbreviated 
forms  such  as  &,  o,  n,  etc.,  have  been  filled  out.  The  capitalization 
has  been  modernised  :  changes  in  punctuation  affecting  the  sense  are 
duly  indicated.  In  designating  speakers  and  adding  stage-directions, 
the  practice  of  previous  issues  in  the  same  series  has  been  followed. 


i?2isj 


SSS© 


Hiiifiiii^iW: 


— ' V^.i^^ 


THE  POSIES 

of  George  Gafcoig^ne 
5J         Efquire. 

Corre£led,  perfeded,  and  augmented 

byihe  Auihour.  I  f  7  f. 
7"<?m  Marti  quam  MercHrio, 


Printed  at  London  foe  R  Ichard  Smith, 
and  are  to  be  folde  at  the  Northweaft 
dooTt  oi  Pauks  Church. 


msa 


3Bw 


,    J.l!l>f^'ni',Cd.S<fl 


SUPPOSES: 

A   Comedie  written  in 

the  Italian  tongue  by  Ario- 

sto,  Englished  by  George  Gas- 

coygne  of  Grayes  Inne 

Esquire, 

and  there  presented. 

1566. 


4  Englished.    Qi,  and  Englished. 
8   1^66.    Qi  omits  date. 


The  names  of  the  Actors. 

Balia,  the  Nurse. 

PoLYNESTA,  the  yong  woman. 

Cleander,  the  Doctor,  suter  to  Polynesta. 

Pasyphilo,  the  Parasite. 

Carion,  the  Doctors  man. 

DuLYPO,  fayned  servant  and  lover  of  Polynesta. 

Erostrato,  fayned  master  and  suter  to  Polynesta. 

^  y   servantes  to  fayned  Erostrato. 

Crapyno  )  •' 

ScENi^sE,  a  gentleman  stranger, 

Paquetto  &  1    ,  . 

r,  V  his  servantes. 

Petrucio         j 

Damon,  father  to  Polinesta. 

Nevola,  and  two  other  his  servants. 

PsYTERiA,  an  olde  hag  in  his  house. 

Phylogano,  a  Scycilian  gentleman,  father  to  Erostrato. 

Lytio,  his  servant. 

Ferrarese,  an  Inkeeper  of  Ferrara, 

The  Comedie  presented  as  it  were 

in  Ferrara. 

»  ig  as  it  ivere.    Ql  omits. 


THE  PROLOGUE  OR  ARGUMENT 

/  suppose  you  are  assembled  here^  supposing  to 
re  ape  the  fruite  of  my  travayles  :  and  to  he  playne^ 
I  meane  presently  to  presente  you  with  a  comedie 
called  Supposes  :  the  verye  name  wherof  may  per- 
adventure  drive  into  every  of  your  heades  a  sundry  5 
Suppose^  to  suppose  the  meaning  of  our  supposes.  Some 
per  case  will  suppose  we  meane  to  occupie  your  eares 
with  sophisticall  handling  of  suhtill  Suppositions. 
Some  other  wil  suppose  we  go  about  to  discipher  unto 
you  some  queint  conceiptes^  which  hitherto  have  10 
bene  onely  supposed  as  it  were  in  shadowes ;  and 
some  I  see  smyling  as  though  they  supposed  we  would 
trouble  you  with  the  vaine  suppose  of  some  wanton 
Suppose.  But  understand^  this  our  Suppose  is  no- 
thing else  but  a  my  staking  or  imagination  of  one  thing  1 5 
for  an  other.  For  you  shall  see  the  master  supposed 
for  the  servant^  the  servant  for  the  master :  the 
freeman  for  a  slave ^  and  the  bondslave  for  a  free- 
man :  the  stranger  for  a  well  knowen  friend^  and 
the  familiar  for  a  stranger.  But  what?  I  sup-  20 
pose  that  even  already  you  suppose  me  very  fonde^ 
that  have  so  simply  disclosed  unto  you  the  subtilties 


6  ^^t  JBrologue  or  atrgumntt 

of  these  our  Supposes :  where  otherwise  in  deede  I 
suppose  you  shoulde  have  hearde  almoste  the  laste  of 
our  Supposes^  before  you  coulde  have  supposed  anye  2< 
of  them  arighte.    Let  this  then  sufise. 


^uppojsejs 


Actus  primus.    Scena  i. 

l^Sireet  in  front  of  Damon' s  House.'\ 
Balia,  the  Nurse.    Polynesta,  the  yong  woman. 

^Balia?^  Here  is  no  body,  come  foorth,  Poly- 
nesta,  let  us  looke  about,  to  be  sure  least  any  man 
heare  our  talke  :  for  I  thinke  within  the  house 
the  tables,  the  plankes,  the  beds,  the  portals,  yea 
and  the  cupbords  them  selves  have  eares. 

Polynesia.  You  might  as  well  have  sayde,  the 
windowes  and  the  doores  :  do  you  not  see  howe 
they  harken  ? 

Ba.  Well,  you  jest  faire,  but  I  would  advise 
you  take  heede  ;  I  have  bidden  you  a  thousande 
times  beware  :  you  will  be  spied  one  day  talk- 
ing with  Dulippo. 

Street  .  .  .  House.  The  whole  action  passes  m  the  street  before  the 
house  of  Damon  and  that  of  his  neighbour,  Erostrato  :  it  occupies 
only  a  few  hours,  shortly  before,  and  immediately  after,  dinner-time. 

I  Balia.  In  the  quarto  the  name  of  the  first  speaker  in  each 
scene  is  not  given,  being  identical  with  that  of  the  first  person 
r/^ntioned  in  the  stage-directions. 

■?   beare.    Q3,  do  heare. 


V 


8  g)UppO0e0  [Act  I. 

Po.  And  why  should  I  not  talke  with  Du- 
lippo,  as  well  as  with  any  other,  I  pray  you  ? 

Ba.   I  have  given  you  a  wherfore  for  this  why  15 
many  times  :  but  go  too,  followe  your  owne  ad- 
vise till  you  overwhelme  us  all  with  soden  mis- 
happe. 

Po.   A  great  mishappe,  I  promise  you  :  marie, 
Gods  blessing  on   their  heart  that  sette  suche  a  20 
brouche  on  my  cappe  ! 

Ba.  Well,  looke  well  about  you  :  a  man  would 
thinke  it  were  inough  for  you  secretly  to  rejoyce, 
that  by  my  helpe  you  have  passed  so  many  pleas- 
ant nightes  togither :  and  yet  by  my  trouth  I  do  25 
it  more  than  halfe  agaynst  my  will,  for  I  would 
rather  you  had  setled  your  fansie  in  some  noble 
familie  ;  yea,  and  it  is  no  small  griefe  unto  me 
that  (rejecting  the  suites  of  so  many  nobles  and 
gentlemen)  you  have  chosen  for  your  darling  a  30 
poore  servaunt  of  your  fathers,  by  whome  shame 
and  infamie  is  the  best  dower  you  can  looke  for 
to  attayne. 

Po.  And,  I  pray  you,  whome  may  I  thanke 
but  gentle  Nourse  ?  that  continually  praysing  35 
him,  what  for  his  personage,  his  curtesie  and, 
above  all,  the  extreme  passions  of  his  minde  — 
in  fine,  you  would  never  cease  till  I  accepted 
him,  delighted  in  him,  and  at  length  desired  him 
with  no  lesse  affection  than  he  earst  desired  me.  4 


Scene  I]  g^UppOfi^eS  9 

Ba.  I  can  not  denie  but  at  the  beginning  I 
did  recommende  him  unto  you  (as  in  deede  I 
may  say  that  for  my  selfe  I  have  a  pitiful  heart), 
seeing  the  depth  of  his  unbridled  affection,  and 
that  continually  he  never  ceassed  to  fill  mine  45 
eares  with  lamentable  complaynts. 

Po.  Nay,  rather  that  he  filled  your  pursse 
with  bribes  and  rewards,  Nourse. 

Ba.  Well,  you  may  judge  of  Nourse  as  you 
liste.  In  deede  I  have  thought  it  alwayes  a  deede  50 
of  charitie  to  helpe  the  miserable  yong  men, 
whose  tender  youth  consumeth  with  the  furious 
flames  of  love.  But,  be  you  sure,  if  I  had  thought 
you  would  have  passed  to  the  termes  you  nowe 
stand  in,  pitie  nor  pencion,  peny  nor  pater  noster,  55 
shoulde  ever  have  made  Nurse  once  to  open  hir 
mouth  in  the  cause. 

Po.  No  [?]  of  honestie,  I  pray  you,  who  first 
brought  him  into  my  chamber  ?  who  first  taught 
him  the  way  to  my  bed  but  you  ?   fie,  Nourse,  60 
fie,  never  speake  of  it  for  shame,  you  will  make 
me  tell  a  wise  tale  anone. 

Ba.  And  have  I  these  thanks  for  my  good 
wil  ?  why,  then,  I  see  wel  I  shall  be  counted 
the  cause  of  all  mishappe.  65 

Po.  Nay,  rather,  the  author  of  my  good  happe 
(gentle  Nourse),  for  I  would  thou  knewest  I  love 

48  Noune.    Q I  omits.  58  iVo  f  Qq,  No.    Hazlitt,  Now. 


10  ^UppO0e0  [Act  I. 

not  Dulipo,  nor  any  of  so  meane  estate,  but 
have  bestowed  my  love  more  worthily  than  thou 
deemest :   but  I  will  say  no  more  at  this  time. 

Ba.  Then  I  am  glad  you  have  changed  your 
minde  yet. 

Po.  Nay,  I  neither  have  changed,  nor  will 
change  it. 

Ba.  Then  I  understande  you  not :  how  sayde 
you  ? 

Po.  Mary,  I  say  that  I  love  not  Dulipo,  nor 
any  suche  as  he,  and  yet  I  neither  have  changed 
nor  wil  change  my  minde. 

Ba.  I  can  not  tell ;  you  love  to  lye  with 
Dulipo  very  well.  This  geare  is  Greeke  to  me ; 
either  it  hangs  not  well  togither,  or  I  am  very 
dull  of  understanding :  speake  plaine,  I  pray 
you. 

Po.  I  can  speake  no  plainer,  I  have  sworne  to 
the  contrary. 

Ba.  Howe  ?  make  you  so  deintie  to  tell  it 
Nourse,  least  she  shoulde  reveale  it  ?  you  have 
trusted  me  as  farre  as  may  be  (I  may  shewe  to 
you)  in  things  that  touche  your  honor  if  they  90 
were  knowne  :  and  make  you  strange  to  tell  me 
this  ?  I  am  sure  it  is  but  a  trifle  in  comparison 
of  those  things  wherof  heretofore  you  have 
made  me  privie. 

Po.  Well,  it   is  of  greater  importance   than  95 


Scene  I]  ^UppO0efif  1 1 

you  thinke,  Nourse ;  yet  would  I  tell  it  you 
under  condition  and  promise  that  you  shall  not 
tell  it  agayne,  nor  give  any  signe  or  token  to  be 
suspected  that  you  know  it. 

Ba.   I  promise  you  of  my  honestie;   say  on.    loo 

Po.  Well,  heare  you  me,  then  :  this  yong 
man,  whome  you  have  alwayes  taken  for  Du- 
lipo,  is  a  noble  borne  Sicilian,  his  right  name 
Erostrato,  sonne  to  Philogano,  one  of  the  worth- 
iest men  in  that  countrey.  105 

Ba.  How  Erostrato  ?  is  it  not  our  neighbour, 
whiche  —  ? 

Po.   Holde  thy  talking,  Nourse,  and  harken  to 
me,  that  I  may  explane  the  whole  case  unto 
thee.     The  man  whome  to  this  day  you 
have  supposed  to  be  Dulipo  is  (as  I  say)  supLTnd 
Erostrato,   a   gentleman   that   came   from  grownd  of 
Sicilia  to  studie  in   this  citie,  and  even  at  ^^^  ^^^  ^"' 
his  first  arrivall  met  me  in  the  street,  fel 
enamored  of  me,  and  of  suche  vehement  force  115 
were  the  passions  he  sufFred,  that  immediatly  he 
cast  aside  both  long  gowne  and  bookes,  and  de- 
termined on  me  only  to  apply  his  study.    And 
to  the  end  he  might  the  more  commodiously 
bothe  see  me  and  talke  with  me,  he  exchanged  120 

The  fir %t  supose  .  .  .  suposes.  Qi  omits  this  and  all  subsequent 
side-notes  with  a  few  exceptions  pointed  out  where  they  occur. 
This  one  was  omitted  from  ^3,  obviously  by  oversight. 


12  g>UppOC;efif  [Act  I. 

both  name,  habite,  clothes,  and  credite  with  his 
servant  Dulipo  (whom  only  he  brought  with 
him  out  of  Sicilia),  and  so  with  the  turning  of 
a  hand,  of  Erostrato  a  gentleman  he  became 
Dulipo  a  serving  man,  and  soone  after  sought  125 
service  of  my  father,  and  obteyned  it. 

Ba,  Are  you  sure  of  this  ? 

Po.  Yea,  out  of  doubt :  on  the  other  side 
Dulippo  tooke  uppon  him  the  name  of  Erostrato 
his  maister,  the  habite,  the  credite,  bookes,  and  130 
all  things  needefull  to  a  studente,  and  in  shorte 
space  profited  very  muche,  and  is  nowe  esteemed 
as  you  see. 

Ba.  Are  there  no  other  Sicylians  heere  :  nor 
none  that  passe  this  way  which  may  discover  135 
them  ? 

Po.  Very  fewe  that  passe  this  way,  and  fewe 
or  none  that  tarrie  heere  any  time. 

Ba.  This  hath  been  a  straunge  adventure; 
but,  I  pray  you,  howe  hang  these  thinges  to- 140 
gither  —  that  the  studente  whome  you  say  to 
be  the  servant,  and  not  the  maister,  is  become 
an  earnest  suter  to  you,  and  requireth  you  of 
your  father  in  mariage  ? 

Po.  That  is  a  pollicie  devised  betweene  them,  145 
to   put   Doctor  Dotipole  out  of  conceite  :   the 
olde  dotarde,  he  that  so  instantly  dothe  lye  upon 
my  father  for  me.      But,  looke  where  he  comes, 


Scene  n]  ^UppO0e0  1 3 

as  God  helpe  me,  it  is  he  :   out  upon  him,  what 
a  luskie  yonker  is  this!   yet   I   had  rather  be  a  150 
noonne  a  thousande  times,  than  be  combred  with 
suche  a  coystrell. 

Ba.  Daughter,  you  have  reason ;  but  let  us 
go  in  before  he  come  any  neerer. 

Polynesia  goeth  in,  and  Balya  stayeth  a  little 
whyle  after,  speaking  a  worde  or  two  to 
the  Doctor,  and  then  departeth. 

SCENA    2. 

Cleander,  doctor.     Pasiphilo,  parasite.   Balya,  nourse. 

\_Cleander.'^  Were  these  dames  heere,  or  did 
mine  eyes  dazil  ? 

Pasiphilo.  Nay,  syr,  heere  were  Polynesta  and 
hir  nourse. 

Cle.  Was  my  Polynesta  heere  ?   alas  !   I  knewe     5 
hir  not. 

Ba.  \_aside'\.  He  muste  have  better  eyesight 
that  shoulde  marry  your  Polynesta,  or  else  he 
may  chaunce  to  oversee  the  best  poynt  in  his 
tables  sometimes.  10 

Pa.  Syr,  it  is  no  marvell,  the  ayre  is  very 
mistie  too  day  :  I  my  selfe  knew  hir  better  by 
hir  apparell  than  by  hir  face. 

Cie.  In  good  fayth,  and  I  thanke  God  I  have 

I   tAese.      Qi,  there. 


14  ^UppO0e0  [Act  I. 

mine  eye  sighte  good  and  perfit,  little  worse 
than  when  I  was  but  twentie  yeres  olde. 

Pa.  How  can  it  be  otherwise  ?  you  are  but 
yong. 

Cle.   I  am  fiftie  yeres  olde. 

Pa.    [aside'] .   He  telles  ten  lesse  than  he  is. 

Cle.    What  sayst  thou  of  ten  lesse  ? 

Pa.  I  saye  I  woulde  have  thoughte  you  tenne 
lesse;  you  looke  like  one  of  sixe  and  thirtie,  or 
seven  and  thirtie  at  the  moste. 

Cle.  I  am  no  lesse  than  I  tell. 

Pa.  You  are  like  inough  too  live  fiftie  more  : 
shewe  me  your  hande. 

Cle.   Why,  is  Pasiphilo  a  chiromancer  ? 

Pa.  What  is  not  Pasiphilo  ?  I  pray  you 
shewe  mee  it  a  little. 

Cle.   Here  it  is. 

Pa.  O  how  straight  and  infracte  is  this  line 
of  life  !  you  will  live  to  the  yeeres  of  Melchi- 
sedech. 

Cle.  Thou  wouldest  say,  Methusalem. 

Pa.   Why,  is  it  not  all  one  ? 

Cle.  I  perceive  you  are  no  very  good  Bibler, 
Pasiphilo. 

Pa.  Yes,  sir,  an  excellent  good  Bibbeler, 
specially  in  a  bottle.  Oh,  what  a  mounte  of 
Venus  here  is  !   but  this  lighte  serveth  not  very 

'5  P^^fi^'    Q3)  perfect.  40  mounte.    Q3,  mouth. 


Scene  II.]  ^UppO^eS!  1 5 

well ;  I  will  beholde  it  an  other  day,  when  the 
ayre  is  clearer,  and  tell  you  somewhat,  perad- 
venture  to  your  contentation. 

Cle.  You  shal  do  me  great  pleasure  :   but  tell  45 
me,  I   pray  thee,  Pasiphilo,  whome   doste  thou 
thinke    Polynesta    Hketh    better,    Erostrato    or 
me  ? 

Pa.  Why  you,  out  of  doubt :  she  is  a  gentle- 
woman of  a  noble  minde,  and  maketh  greater  5° 
accompte  of  the  reputation  she  shall  have  in 
marrying  your  worship,  than  that  poore  scholer 
whose  birthe  and  parentage  God  knoweth,  and 
yery  fewe  else. 

Cle.  Yet   he  taketh  it  upon  him  bravely  in  55 
this  countrey. 

Pa.    Yea,  where  no  man  knoweth  the  con- 
trarie ;   but  let   him  brave  it,  host  his  birth,  and 
do  what  he  can  :   the  vertue  and  knowledge  that 
is  within  this  body  of  yours  is  worth  more  than  60 
all  the  countrey  he  came  from. 

Cle.  It  becommeth  not  a  man  to  praise  him 
selfe  :  but,  in  deede,  I  may  say  (and  say  truely) 
that  my  knowledge  hath  stoode  me  in  better 
steade  at  a  pinche  than  coulde  all  the  goodes  in  65 
the  worlde.  I  came  out  of  Otranto  when  the 
Turkes  wonne  it,  and  first  I  came  to  Padua, 
after  hither,  where  by  reading,  counsailing  and 

56  this.    Qi,  the. 


1 6  ^UppO0efl(  [Act  I. 

pleading,  within  twentie  yeares  I  have  gathered 
and  gayned  as  good  as  ten  thousande  ducats.         7® 

Pa.  Yea,  mary,  this  is  the  righte  knowledge  : 
philosophie,  poetrie,  logike,  and  all  the  rest,  are 
but  pickling  sciences  in  comparison  to  this. 

Cle.  But  pyckling  in  deede,  whereof  we  have 
a  verse : 

The  trade  oflaijoe  doth  fill  the  boystrous  baggesy 
They  sivimme  in  silke^  luhen  others  royst  in  ragges. 

Pa.   O  excellent  verse ;  who  made  it  ?    Virgil  ? 

Cle.  Virgil  ?  tushe,  it  is  written  in  one  of 
our  gloses. 

Pa.  Sure,  who  soever  wrote  it,  the  morall  is 
excellent,  and  worthy  to  be  written  in  letters 
of  golde.  But  to  the  purpose :  I  thinke  you 
shall  never  recover  the  wealth  that  you  loste  at 
Otranto.  85 

Cle.   I  thinke  I  have  dubled  it,  or  rather  An  other 
made  it  foure  times  as  muche :  but,  in  deed,  supose. 
I  lost    mine  only  sonne  there,   a  childe  of  five 
yeres  olde. 

Pa.   O,  great  pitie  !  90 

Cle.  Yea,  I  had  rather  have  lost  al  the  goods 
in  the  world. 

Pa.  Alas,  alas  !  by  God,  and  grafts  of  suche 
a  stocke  are  very  gayson  in  these  dayes. 

Cle.  I  know  not  whether  he  were  slayne,  or  95 

91   ha've.    Qi  omits,  94  gayson.    Q3,  geason. 


Scene  II.]  ^UPPOSffS?  1 7 

the  Turks  toke  him  and  kept  him   as  a   bond 
slave. 

Pa.  Alas,  I  could  weepe  for  compassion,  but 
there  is  no  remedy  but  patience ;   you   shall   get 
many  by  this  yong  damsell  with  the  grace  of  loo 
God. 

Cle.  Yea,  if  I  get  hir. 

Pa.   Get  hir  ?   why  doubt  you  of  that  ? 

Cle.  Why  ?  hir  father  holds  me  off  with  de- 
layes,  so  that  I  must  needes  doubt.  105 

Pa.  Content  your  selfe,  sir,  he  is  a  wise  man, 
and  desirous  to  place  his  daughter  well :  he  will 
not  be  too  rashe  in  hys  determination,  he  will 
thinke  well  of  the  matter ;  and  lette  him  thinke, 
for  the  longer  he  thinketh,  the  more  good  of  you  no 
shall  he  thinke.  Whose  welth,  whose  vertue, 
whose  skill,  or  whose  estimation  can  he  com- 
pare to  yours  in  this  citie  ? 

Cle.   And  hast  thou  not  tolde  him  that  I  would 
make  his  daughter  a  dower  of  two  thousand  du-115 
cates  ? 

Pa.  Why,  even  now;  I  came  but  from  thence 
since. 

Cle.  What  said  he  ? 

Pa.  Nothing,  but  that  Erostrato  had  proferediao 
the  like. 

Cle.   Erostrato  ?  how  can  he  make  any  dower, 
and  his  father  yet  alive  ? 


1 8  ^nppO£itSi  [Act  I. 

Pa.  Thinke  you  I  did  not  tell  him  so?  yes, 
I  warrant  you,  I  forgot  nothing  that  may  furderns 
your  cause  :  and  doubte  you  not,  Erostrato  shal 
never  have  hir,  unlesse  it  be  in  a  dreame. 

Ck.  Well,  gentle  Pasiphilo,  go  thy  wayes 
and  tell  Damon  I  require  nothing  but  his  daugh- 
ter:  I  wil  none  of  his  goods:  I  shal  enrich  hir  130 
of  mine  owne  :  and  if  this  dower  of  two  thou- 
sand ducates  seem  not  sufficient,  I  wil  make  it 
five  hundreth  more,  yea  a  thousand,  or  what  so 
ever  he  wil  demaund  rather  then  faile.  Go  to, 
Pasiphilo,  shew  thy  selfe  frendly  in  working  this  135 
feate  for  me :  spare  for  no  cost ;  since  I  have 
gone  thus  farre,  I  wilbe  loth  to  be  out  bidden. 
Go. 

Pa.  Where  shall  I  come  to  you  againe  ? 

C/e.  At  my  house.  140J 

Pa.   When  ? 

C/e.  When  thou  wilte. 

Pa.  Shall  I  come  at  dinner  time  ? 

Ck.  I  would  byd  thee  to  dinner,  but  it  is  a 
Saincts  even  which  I  have  ever  fasted.  14* 

Pa.    [aside^ .   Faste,  till  thou  famishe. 

Cte.   Harke! 

Pa.    [aside\ .    He  speaketh   of   a    dead    mans 
faste. 

Cle.  Thou  hearest  me  not.  i5< 

Pa.  Nor  thou  understandest  me  not. 


Scene  III.]  g)UPpO0e0  1 9 

Cle.  I  dare  say  thou  art  angrie  I  byd  the  not 
to  dinner :  but  come,  if  thou  wilte  ;  thou  shalt 
take  such  as  thou  findest. 

Pa.   What!   think  you  I  know  not  where  to  155 
dine  ? 

Cle.  Yes,  Pasiphilo,  thou  art  not  to  seeke. 

Pa.  No,  be  you  sure,  there  are  enowe  will 
pray  me. 

Cle.  That  I  knowe  well  eno-ugh,  Pasiphilo  ;  160 
but  thou  canst  not  be  better  welcome  in  any 
place  than  to  me ;   I  will  tarrie  for  thee. 

Pa.   Well,  since  you  will  needes,  I  will  come. 

Cle.  Dispatche,  then,  and  bring  no  newes  but 
good.  165 

Pa.  Better  than  my  rewarde,  by  the  rood. 

Oleander  exit.    Pasiphilo  restat. 

ScENA  iii. 

Pasiphilo.     \_Later~\   Dulipo. 

\_Pasiphilo.,  alone.'j  O  miserable  covetous 
wretche,  he  findeth  an  excuse  by  S.  Nicolas  fast, 
bicause  I  should  not  dine  with  him,  as  though 
I  should  dine  at  his  owne  dishe  :  he  maketh 
goodly  feasts,  I  promise  you  ;  it  is  no  wonder  5 
though  hee  thinke  me  bounde  unto  him  for  my 
fare  :    for  over  and  besides  that   his   provision 

3   ivitb.    Q3  omits. 


20  ^UPPO000  [Act  I. 


II 


is  as  skant  as  may  be,  yet  there  is  great  differ- 
ence betweene  his  diet  and  mine.  I  never  so 
much  as  sippe  of  the  wine  that  he  tasteth,  I 
feede  at  the  hordes  ende  with  browne  bread  : 
marie,  I  reach  always  to  his  owne  dishe,  for 
there  are  no  more  but  that  only  on  the  table. 
Yet  he  thinks  that  for  one  such  dinner  I  am 
bound  to  do  him  al  the  service  that  I  can,  and  15 
thinks  me  sufficiently  rewarded  for  all  my  travell 
with  one  suche  festivall  promotion.  And  yet, 
peradventure,  some  men  thinke  I  have  great 
gaines  under  him  :  but  I  may  say  and  sweare,  that 
this  dosen  yeere  I  have  not  gayned  so  muche  in  20 
value  as  the  points  at  my  hose  (whiche  are  but 
three  with  codpeece  poynt  and  al)  :  he  thinkes 
that  I  may  feede  upon  his  favour  and  faire 
wordes  :  but  if  I  could  not  otherwise  provide  for 
one,  Pasiphilo  were  in  a  wyse  case.  Pasiphilo 
hath  mo  pastures  to  passe  in  than  one,  I  war- 
rant you  :  I  am  of  householde  with  this  scholer 
Erostrato  (his  rivale)  as  well  as  with  Domine 
Cleander :  nowe  with  the  one,  and  then  with 
the  other,  according  as  I  see  their  caters  pro- 
vide good  cheere  at  the  market  ;  and  I  finde 
the  meanes  so  to  handle  the  matter,  that  I  am 
welcome  too  bothe.  If  the  one  see  me  talke 
with  the  other,  I  make  him  beleeve  it  is  to  bar- 
ken newes  in  the  furtherance  of  his  cause  :   and 


Scene  III.]  ^UPpO0f0  21 

thus  I  become  a  broker  on  bothe  sides.  Well, 
lette  them  bothe  apply  the  matter  as  well  as  they 
can,  for,  in  deede,  I  will  travell  for  none  of  them 
bothe  :  yet  will  I  seeme  to  worke  wonders  on 
eche  hande.  [Enter  Dulipo.^  But  is  not  this  one  40 
of  Damons  servants  that  commeth  foorth  ?  It 
is  :  of  him  I  shall  understand  where  his  master 
is.    Whither  goeth  this  joyly  gallant  ? 

Dulipo.   I  come  to  seeke  some  body  that  may 
accompany   my    master  at  dinner;  he  is  alone,  45 
and  would  fayne  have  good  company. 

Pa.  Seeke  no  further,  you  coulde  never  have 
found  one  better  than  me. 

Du.   I  have  no  commission  to  bring  so  many. 

Pa.   How  many  ?  I  will  come  alone.  50 

Du.  How  canst  thou  come  alone,  that  hast 
continually  a  legion  of  ravening  wolves  within 
thee  ? 

Pa.  Thou  doest  (as  servants  commonly  doe) 
hate  al  that  love  to  visite  their  maisters.  55 

Du.  And  why  ? 

Pa.  Bicause  they  have  too  many  teeth  as  you 
thinke. 

Du.   Nay,  bicause  they  have  to  many  tongues. 

Pa.   Tongues  ?  I  pray  you  what  did  my  tongue   60 
ever  hurt  you  ? 

Du.  I  speake  but  merily  with  you,  Pasiphilo  ; 
goe  in,  my  maister  is  ready  to  dine. 

43  j°yh-   Qs,  jolly- 


22  ^UppOS?e0  [Act  I. 

Pa.  What  !  dineth  he  so  earely  ? 

Du.   He  that  riseth  early,  dineth  early.  65 

Pa,  I  would  I  were  his  man.  Maister  Doc- 
tor never  dineth  till  noone,  and  how  dilicately 
then,  God  knoweth.  I  wil  be  bolde  to  goe  in, 
for  I  count  my  selfe  bidden. 

Du.  You  were  best  so.  70 

Pasiphilo  intrat.     Dul\Jpo]  restat. 
Hard  hap  had  I  when  I  first  began  this  unfortu- 
nate enterprise  :  for  I  supposed  the  readiest  medi- 
cine to  my  miserable  affects  had  bene  to  change 
name,  clothes,  and  credite  with  my  servant,  and 
to   place   my  selfe  in  Damons   service :    think-  75  : 
ing   that   as    shevering   colde   by  glowing   fire, 
thurst  by  drinke,  hunger  by  pleasant  repasts,  and        i 
a  thousande  suche  like  passions  finde  remedie     ■i 
by  their  contraries,  so  my  restless  desire  might     *  ' 
have  founde  quiet  by  continuall  contemplation.  80 
But,  alas,  I  find  that  only  love  is  unsaciable  : 
for,  as  the  flie  playeth  with  the  flame  till  at  last 
she  is  cause  of  hir  owne  decay,  so  the  lover  that 
thinketh  with  kissing  and  colling  to  content  his 
unbrideled   apetite,  is  commonly  scene  the- only  85 
cause  of  his  owne  consumption.    Two  yeeres  are 
nowe  past  since  (under  the  colour  of  Damons 
service)  I  have  bene  a  sworne  servant  to  Cupid, 

Padphilo  .  .  .  restat.    No  stage-direction  in  Qi. 
73  affects.    Qi,  effectes. 


Scene  III]  g)UPpO0e0  23 

of  whom  I  have  received  as  much  favour  and 
grace  as  ever  man  founde  in  his  service.  I  have  90 
free  libertie  at  al  times  to  behold  my  desired,  to 
talke  with  hir,  to  embrace  hir,  yea  (be  it  spoken 
in  secrete)  to  lie  with  hir.  I  reape  the  fruites  of 
my  desire  :  yet,  as  my  joyes  abounde,  even  so 
my  paines  encrease.  I  fare  like  the  covetous  95 
man,  that  having  all  the  world  at  will,  is  never 
yet  content  :  the  more  I  have,  the  more  I  desire. 
Alas,  what  wretched  estate  have  I  brought 
my  selfe  unto,  if  in  the  ende  of  all  my  farre 
fetches,  she  be  given  by  hir  father  to  this  oldeioo 
doting  doctor,  this  buzard,  this  bribing  villaine, 
that  by  so  many  meanes  seeketh  to  obtain  hir 
at  hir  fathers  hands  ?  I  know  she  loveth  me  best 
of  all  others,  but  what  may  that  prevaile,  when 
perforce  she  shalbe  constrained  to  marie  another  ?  105 
Alas,  the  pleasant  tast  of  my  sugred  joyes  doth 
yet  remaine  so  perfect  in  my  remembrance,  that 
the  least  soppe  of  sorow  seemeth  more  soure 
than  gal  in  my  mouth.  If  I  had  never  knowen 
delight,  with  better  contentation  might  I  have  no 
passed  these  dreadful  dolours.  And  if  this  olde 
Mumpsimus  (whom  the  pockes  consume)  should 
win  hir,  then  may  I  say,  "  Farewell  the  pleasant 
talke,  the  kind  embracings,  yea,  farewel  the 
sight  of  my  Polynesta  "  :   for  he,  like  a  jelouseii5 

103   lo'vetb.     Q3,  loves. 


24  g>UppO0eSl  [Act  I. 

wretch,  will  pen  hir  up,  that  I  thinke  the  birdes 
of  the  aire  shall  not  winne  the  sighte  of  hir.  I 
hoped  to  have  caste  a  blocke  in  his  waie  by 
the  meanes  that  my  servaunt  (who  is  supposed  to 
be  Erostrato,  and  with  my  habite  and  credite  is  120 
wel  esteemed)  should  proffer  himself  a  suter,  at 
the  least  to  countervaile  the  Doctors  proffers. 
But,  my  maister  knowing  the  wealth  of  the  one, 
and  doubting  the  state  of  the  other,  is  determined 
to  be  fed  no  longer  with  faire  wordes,  but  to  125 
accept  the  Doctor  (whom  he  right  well  knoweth) 
for  his  Sonne  in  law.  Wel,  my  servant  promised 
me  yesterday  to  devise  yet  againe  some  newe 
conspiracie  to  drive  Maister  Doctor  out  of  con- 
ceite,  and  to  laye  a  snare  that  the  foxe  himselfei3o 
might  be  caughte  in  :  what  it  is,  I  knowe  not, 
nor  I  saw  him  not  since  he  went  about  it :  I 
will  goe  see  if  he  be  within,  that  at  least  if  he 
helpe  me  not,  he  maye  yet  prolong  my  life  for 
this  once.  But  here  commeth  his  lackie  :  ho!  135 
Jack  pack,  where  is  Erostrato  ? 

Here  must    Crapine  be  comming  in  with  a 
basket  and  a  sticke  in  his  hand. 

136   Jack  pack,    (^i,  Jack  heark. 


Scene  IIII]  &VLPPO&t^  25 


ScENA  iiii. 
CrapinOy  the  lackie,     Dulipo. 

[Crapino.']  Erostrato  ?  mary  he  is  in  his 
skinne. 

Dulipo.  Ah,  hooreson  boy,  I  say,  how  shall  I 
finde  Erostrato  ? 

Cra.   Finde  him  ?  howe  meane  you  ?  by  the     5 
weeke  or  by  the  yeere  ? 

Du.  You  cracke-halter,  if  I  catche  you  by 
the  eares,  I  shall  make  you  answere  me  di- 
rectly. 

Cra.  [^going'j  .   In  deede  ?  10 

Du.  Tarry  me  a  little. 

Cra.   In  faith,  sir,  I  have  no  leisure. 

Du.  Shall  we  trie  who  can  runne  fastest  ? 

[  They  run,  and  Dulipo  catches  Crapino.'^ 

Cra.  Your  legges  be  longer  than  mine,  you 
should  have  given  me  the  advauntage.  15 

Du.   Go  to,  tell  me  where  is  Erostrato  ? 

Cra.  I  left  him  in  the  streete,  where  he  gave 
me  this  casket  (this  basket  I  would  have  sayde) 
and  bad  me  beare  it  to  Dalio,  and  returne  to 
him  at  the  Dukes  palace.  20 

Du.  If  thou  see  him,  tell  him  I  must  needes 
speake  with  him  immediatly:   or  abide  awhyle. 


26  ^UPpCfifefif  [Act  I. 

I  will  go  seeke  him  my  selfe,  rather  than  be  sus- 
pected by  going  to  his  house. 

Crapino  departethy  and  Dulipo  also  :  after 
Dulipo  commeth  in  agayncy  seeking  Eros- 
trato. 

Finis  Actus  i. 


Actus  ii.    Scena  I. 
Dulipo.     \_Later^  Erostrato. 

\_DuUpo.'\  I  thinke  if  I  had  as  many  eyes  as 
Argus,  I  coulde  not  have  sought  a  man  more 
narrowly  in  every  streete  and  every  by  lane ; 
there  are  not  many  gentlemen,  scholers,  nor 
marchauntes  in  the  citie  of  Ferara,  but  I  have 
mette  with  them,  excepte  him  :  peradventure  hee 
is  come  home  an  other  way;  but  looke  where 
he  commeth  at  the  last.  \_Enter  Erostrato.'] 

Erostrato.  In  good  time  have  I  spied  my  good 
maister. 

Du.  For  the  love  of  God  call  me  Dulipo 
(not  master,)  maintayne  the  credite  that  thou 
haste  hitherto  kepte,  and  let  me  alone. 

Ero.  Yet,  sir,  let  me  sometimes  do  my  duetie 
unto  you,  especially  where  no  body  heareth. 

Du.  Yea,  but  so  long  the  parat  useth  to  crie 
knappe  in  sporte  that  at  the  last  she  calleth  hir 
maister  knave  in  earnest :  so  long  you  will  use 
to  call  me  master  that  at  the  last  we  shall  be 
heard.    What  newes  ? 

Ero.   Good. 

Du.  In  deede  ? 


28  g>UppO0e0  [Act  II. 

Ero.  Yea,  excellent !  we  have  as  good  as  won 
the  wager. 

Du.  Oh,  how  happie   were   I   if  this  were  25 
true  ! 

£7-0.  Heare  you  me  ;  yesternight,  in  the 
evening,  I  walked  out,  and  founde  Pasiphilo,  and 
with  small  entreating  I  had  him  home  to  supper, 
where,  by  suche  meanes  as  I  used,  he  became  30 
my  great  friend,  and  tolde  me  the  whole  order 
of  our  adversaries  determination  :  yea,  and  what 
Damon  doth  intende  to  do  also;  and  hath  pro- 
mised me  that  from  time  to  time,  what  he  can 
espie  he  will  bring  me  word  of  it.  35 

Du.  I  can  not  tel  whether  you  know  him  or 
no  ;  he  is  not  to  trust  unto,  a  very  flattering  and 
a  lying  knave. 

Ero.  I  know  him  very  well,  he  can  not  de- 
ceive me  :  and  this  that  he  hath  told  me  I  know  40 
must  needes  be  true. 

Du.  And  what  was  it  in  effect  ? 

Ero.  That  Damon  had  purposed  to  give    Another 
his  daughter  in  mariage  to  this  doctor,  upon  supose. 
the  dower  that  he  hath  profered.  45 

Du.  Are  these  your  good  newes  ?  your  excel- 
lent newes  ? 

Ero.  Stay  a  whyle ;  you  will  understande  me 
before  you  heare  me. 

Du.   Well,  say  on.  50J 


Scene  I]  &XXppOSit&  29 

Ero,  I  answered  to  that,  I  was  ready  to  make 
hir  the  lyke  dower. 

Du.   Well  sayde. 

Ero.  Abide,  you  heare  not  the  worst  yet. 

Du.   O  God,  is  there  any  worsse  behinde  ?        55 

Ero.  Worsse  ?  why,  what  assurance  coulde 
you  suppose  that  I  might  make  without  some 
speciall  consent  from  Philogano  my  father  ? 

Du.  Nay,  you  can  tell,  you  are  better  scholer 
than  I.  60 

Ero.  In  deede  you  have  lost  your  time  :  for 
the  books  that  you  tosse  now  a  dayes  treate  of 
smal  science. 

Du.  Leave  thy  jesting,  and  proceede. 

Ero.  1  sayd  further,  that  I  receyved  letters  65 
lately  from  my  father,  whereby  I  understoode 
that  he  woulde  be  heere  very  shortly  to  performe 
all  that  I  had  profered;  therefore  I  required  him 
to  request  Damon  on  my  behalf,  that  he  would 
stay  his  promise  to  the  doctor  for  a  fourtnight  70 
or  more. 

Du.  This  is  somewhat  yet,  for  by  this  meanes 
I  shal  be  sure  to  linger  and  live  in  hope  one 
fourtnight  longer ;  but  at  the  fourthnights  ende, 
when  Philogano  commeth  not,  how  shall  I  then  75 
do  ?  yea,  and  though  he  came,  howe  may  I  any 
way  hope  of  his  consent  when  he  shall  see  that 
to    follow  this    amorous   enterprise    I    have   set 


30  g)uppos?es;  [act  h. 

aside  all  studie,  all  remembraunce  of  my  duetie, 
and  all  dread  of  shame.    Alas,  alas,  I   may  go  go 
hang  my  selfe  ! 

Ero,  Comforte  your  selfe,  man,  and  trust  in 
me :  there  is  a  salve  for  every  sore  \  and  doubt 
you  not,  to  this  mischeefe  we  shall  iinde  a 
remedie.  85 

Du,  O  friend,  revive  me,  that  hitherto,  since 
I  first  attempted  this  matter,  have  bene  contin- 
ually dying. 

Ero.  Well,  harken  a  while  then  :  this  morn- 
ing I  tooke  my  horse,  and  rode  into  the  fieldes  90 
to  solace  my  self,  and  as  I  passed  the  foorde 
beyonde  S.  Anthonies  gate,  I  met,  at  the  foote 
of  the  hill,  a  gentleman  riding  with  two  or  three 
men  :  and  as  me  thought  by  his  habite  and  his 
lookes,  he  should  be  none  of  the  wisest.  He 
saluted  me,  and  I  him :  I  asked  him  from 
whence  he  came,  and  whither  he  would  ?  he 
answered  that  he  had  come  from  Venice,  then 
from  Padua,  nowe  was  going  to  Ferrara,  and  so 
to  his  countrey,  whiche  is  Scienna.  As  soone  as  i 
I  knewe  him  to  be  a  Scenese,  sodenly  lifting  up 
mine  eyes  (as  it  were  with  an  admiration),  I 
sayd  unto  him,  "  Are  you  a  Scenese,  and  come 
to  Ferrara  ?  "  "  Why  not  ?  "  sayde  he  :  quoth  I 
(halfe  and  more  with  a  trembling  voyce),  "  Know  i 
you  the  daunger  that  should  ensue  if  you  be 


Scene  I]  g)UppO£fe0  3 1 

knowne  in  Ferrara  to  be  a  Scenese  ?  "  He,  more 
than  halfe  amased,  desired  me  earnestly  to  tell 
him  what  I  ment. 

Du.   I  understande  not  wherto  this  tendeth.    no 

Ero.   I  beleeve  you  :   but  harken  to  me. 

Du.   Go  too,  then. 

Ero.  I  answered  him  in  this  sorte  :  "  Gentle- 
man, bycause  I  have  heretofore  founde  very 
curteous  entertaynement  in  your  countrey  (bee- 115 
ing  a  student  there),  I  accompt  my  self  as  it 
were  bounde  to  a  Scenese  :  and  therefore  if  I 
knewe  of  any  mishappe  towards  any  of  that 
countrey,  God  forbid  but  I  should  disclose  it : 
and  I  marvell  that  you  knewe  not  of  the  injurieiio 
that  your  countreymen  offered  this  other  day  to 
the  Embassadours  of  Counte  Hercules." 

Du.   What  tales  he  telleth  me!  w^hat  apper- 
tayne  these  to  me  ? 

Ero.   If  you  will  harken  a  whyle,  you  shall  125 
finde  them  no  tales,  but  that  they  appertayne  to 
you  more  than  you  thinke  for. 

Du.  Foorth. 

Ero.   I  tolde  him  further,  these  Ambassadoures 
of  Counte  Hercules  had  dyvers  mules,  waggons,  130 
and  charettes,  laden  with   divers   costly  jewels, 
gorgeous     furniture,    and     other    things    which 

122   Counte  Hercules.   Qi,  Countie  Hercule.  Q3,  Count)-  Her- 
cules. 


32 


g>uppo0e0 


[Act  II. 


they  caried  as  presents  (passing  that  way)  to  the 
King  of  Naples  :  the  which  were  not  only  stayd 
in  Sciene  by  the  officers  whom  you  cal  cus- 
tomers, but  serched,  ransacked,  tossed  and 
turned,  and  in  the  end  exacted  for  tribute,  as 
if  they  had  bene  the  goods  of  a  meane  mar- 
chaunt. 

Du.  Whither  the  divell  wil  he  ?  is  it  possible 
that  this  geare  appertaine  any  thing  to  my  cause  ? 
I  iinde  neither  head  nor  foote  in  it. 

Ero.  O  how  impacient  you  are :  I  pray  you 
stay  a  while. 

Du.   Go  to  yet  a  while  then. 

Ero,  I  proceeded,  that  upon  these  causes  the 
Duke  sent  his  Chauncelor  to  declare  the  case 
unto  the  Senate  there,  of  whome  he  had  the 
moste  uncurteous  answere  that  ever  was  heard : 
wherupon  he  was  so  enraged  with  all  of  that 
countrey,  that  for  revenge  he  had  sworne  to 
spoyle  as  many  of  them  as  ever  should  come  to 
Ferara,  and  to  sende  them  home  in  their  dublet 
and  their  hose. 

Du.  And  I  pray  thee,  how  couldest  thou 
upon  the  sudden  devise  or  imagine  suche  a  lye  ? 
and  to  what  purpose  ? 

Ero.  You  shall  heare  by  and  by  a  thing  as 
fitte  for  our  purpose  as  any  could  have  happened. 

141   appertaine.    ^l,  appertaineth. 


35 


140 


145 


150 


155 


Scene  I.]  ^XXppO&t^  33 

Du.  I  would  fayne  heare  you  conclude.  160 

Era.  You  would  fayne  leape  over  the  stile 
before  you  come  at  the  hedge  :  I  woulde  you 
had  heard  me,  and  seene  the  gestures  that  I  en- 
forced to  make  him  beleeve  this. 

Du.  I  beleeve    you,  for  I    knowe  you    can  165 
counterfet  wel. 

£ro.  Further  I  sayde,  the  Duke  had  charged, 
upon  great  penalties,  that  the  inholders  and 
vitlers  shoulde  bring  worde  dayly  of  as  many 
Sceneses  as  came  to  their  houses.  The  gentle- 170 
man  beeing  (as  I  gessed  at  the  first)  a  man  of 
smal  sapientia^  when  he  heard  these  newes, 
would  have  turned  his  horse  an  other  way. 

Du.   By  likelyhoode   he  was   not   very  wise 
when  hee  would  beleeve  that  of  his  countrey  175 
which,   if  it   had   bene   true,  every   man   must 
needes  have  knowen  it. 

Ero.  Why  not?  when  he  had  not  beene  in 
his  countrey  for  a  moneth  paste,  and  I  tolde 
him  this  had  hapned  within  these  seven  dayes.    180 

Du.   Belike  he  was  of  small  experience. 

Ero.  I  thinke,  of  as  litle  as  may  be  :  but  beste 
of  all  for  our  purpose  and  good  adventure  it 
was,  that  I  mette  with  such  an  one.  Now 
barken,  I  pray  you.  185 

Du.  Make  an  ende,  I  pray  thee. 

Ero.   He,  as  I  say,  when  he  hard  these  words, 


34  g>UppO0r0  [Act  IL 

would  have  turned  the  bridle :   and  I,  fayning  a 
countenance  as  though  I  were  somewhat  pen- 
sive and  carefull  for  him,  paused  a  while,  and  190 
after,  with  a  great  sighe,  saide  to  him:  "  Gentle^ 
man,  for  the  curtesie  that  (as  I  said)  I  have  found 
in  your  countrey,  and  bicause  your  affaires  shall 
be  the  better  dispatched,  I  will  finde  the  meanes 
to  lodge  you  in  my  house,  and  you  shal  say  to  195 
every  man,  that  you  are  a  Sicilian  of  Cathanea, 
your  name  Philogano,  father  to  me  that  am  in 
deede   of  that   countrey  and   citie,  called  here 
Erostrato.    And  I  (to  pleasure  you)  will  (during 
your  abode  here)  do  you  reverence  as  you  were  200 
my  father." 

Du.  Out  upon  me,  what  a  grosse  hedded  foole 
am  I !    Now  I  perceive  whereto  this  tale  tendeth. 

Ero.   Well,  and  how  like  you  of  it  ? 

Du.  Indifferently,  but  one  thing  I  doubt.        205 

Ero.  What  is  that  ? 

Du.  Marie,  that  when  he  hath  bene  here 
twoo  or  three  dayes,  he  shal  heare  of  every  man 
that  there  is  no  such  thing  betwene  the  Duke 
and  the  Towne  of  Sciene.  210 

Ero,  As  for  that,  let  me  alone !  I  doe  enter- 
taine  and  will  entertaine  him  so  well,  that  within 
these  two  or  three  dales  I  will  disclose  unto 
him  all  the  whole  matter,  and  doubte  not  but 
to  bring  him  in  for  performance  of  as  muche  as  215 


Scene  L]  ^UppOStS  35 

I  have  promised  to  Damon  :  for  what  hurte 
can  it  be  to  him,  when  he  shall  binde  a  strange 
name,  and  not  his  owne  ? 

Du.   What,  thinke  you   he  will   be  entreated 
to  stande  bounde  for  a  dower  of  two   thousand  220 
ducates  by  the  yeere  ? 

Ero.  Yea,  why  not  (if  it  were  ten  thousande), 
as  long  as  he  is  not  in  deede  the  man  that  is  bound  ? 

Bu.  Well,  if  it  be  so,  what  shall  we  be  the 
neerer  to  our  purpose  ?  225 

Ero.  Why,  when  we  have  done  as  muche  as 
we  can,  how  can  we  doe  any  more  ? 

Du.  And  where  have  you  left  him  ? 

Ero.  At  the  inne,  bicause  of  his  horses  :  he 
and  his  men  shall  lie  in  my  house.  230 

Du.  Why  brought  you  him  not  with  you  ? 

Ero.   I  thought  better  to  use  your  advise  first. 

Du.  Well,  goe  take  him  home,  make  him 
all  the  cheere  you  can,  spare  for  no  cost ;  I  will 
alowe  it.  235 

Ero.   Content  :   looke  where  he  commeth. 

Du.   Is    this    he  ?    goe,  meete  him.     Bv   my 
trouthe,  he  lookes  even  lyke  a  good   foule ;    he 
that  fisheth  for  him  mighte  bee  sure  to  catche  a 
cods  heade:   I  will  rest  here  a  while  to  discipher24o 
him.  Erostrato    espieth    the   Scenese,    and  goeth 

towards  him  ;   Dulipo  stande th  aside. 
230  men.   (^3,  man. 


36  ^UppOSfrSf  [Act  n. 


SCENA   ii. 

The  Scenese,    Paquetio  and  Petrucio  his  servants. 
[Later']  Erostrato. 

[The  Scenese.']  He  that  travaileth  in  this 
worlde  passeth  by  many  perilles. 

Paquetto.  You    saye   true,   sir ;   if  the        An  other 
boate  had  bene  a  little  more  laden  this        supose, 
morning  at  the  ferrie,  wee  had  bene  all  drowned,     5 
for  I   thinke   there  are  none  of  us  that  could 
have  swomme. 

Sc.   I  speake  not  of  that. 

Pa.  O,  you  meane  the  foule  waye  that  we 
had  since  wee  came  from  this  Padua  ;  I  promise 
you,  I  was  afraide  twice  or  thrice  that  your 
mule  would  have  lien  fast  in  the  mire. 

Sc.  Jesu !  what  a  blockehead  thou  art !  I 
speake  of  the  perill  we  are  in  presently  since 
we  came  into  this  citie.  15 

Pa.  A  great  peril,  I  promise  you,  that  we 
were  no  sooner  arived  but  you  founde  a  frende 
that  brought  you  from  the  inne,  and  lodged  you 
in  his  owne  house. 

Sc.  Yea,  marie,  God  rewarde  the  gentle  yong  20 

Paquetto  and  Petrucio  his  servants.    Qi,  Faumlus  his  servaunt. 
Fa.  mstead  of  Pa.  throughout  this  scene. 
17  but.    Qi,  than. 


Scene  II. ]  ^UPPO0e0  37 

man  that    we   mette,    for    else   we   had        a  doltish 
bene  in  a  wise  case  by  this  time.    But        supose. 
have  done  with  these  tales,  and  take  you  heede, 
and  you  also,  sirra  !   take  heede  that  none  of  you 
saie  we  be  Sceneses,  and  remember  that  you  call  25 
me  Philogano  of  Cathanea. 

Pa.  Sure  I  shal  never  remember  these  out- 
landish words !  I  could  well  remember  Hac- 
canea. 

iS'^:.  I  say  Cathanea,  and  not  Haccanea,  with  30 
a  vengeance ! 

Pa.  Let  another  name  it  then  when  neede  is, 
for  I  shall  never  remember  it. 

Sc.  Then  holde  thy  peace,  and  take  heede 
thou  name  not  Scene.  35 

Pa.  Howe  say  you  if  I  faine  my  selfe  dum, 
as  I  did  once  in  the  house  of  Crisobolus  ? 

Sc.  Doe  as  thou  thinkest  best  :  but  looke 
where  commeth  the  gentleman  whom  we  are  so 
muche  bounde  unto.  \_E?it£r  Erostrato.'\    40 

Ero.  Welcome,  my  deare  father  Philogano. 

Sc.   Gramercie,  my  good  sonne  Erostrato. 

Ero.  That  is  well  saide ;  be  mmdefuU  of 
your  toung,  for  these  Ferareses  be  as  craftie  as 
the  devill  of  hell.  45 

Sc.  No,  no,  be  you  sure  we  will  doe  as  you 
have  bidden  us. 

Ero.   For    if  you   should    name    Scene,  they 


38  ^nppo&t&  [acth. 

would  spoile  you  immediatly,  and  turne  you 
out  of  the  towne,  with  more  shame  than  I 
woulde  shoulde  befall  you  for  a  thousande 
crownes. 

Sc.  I  warant  you,  I  was  giving  them  warn- 
ing as  I  came  to  you,  and  I  doubt  not  but  they 
will  take  good  heede. 

Ero.  Yea,  and  trust  not  the  servauntes  of  my 
housholde  to  far,  for  they  are  Ferareses  all,  and 
never  knew  my  father,  nor  came  never  in  Sici- 
lia :  this  is  my  house  j  will  it  please  you  to  goe 
in  ?    I  will  follow. 

They  goe  in.    Dulipo  tarieth  and  espieth  the 
Doctor  comming  in  with  his  man. 

ScENA  iii. 

Dulipo  alone. 

^Dulipo.~\  This  geare  hath  had  no  evill  begin- 
ning, if  it  continue  so,  and  fall  to  happie  ende. 
But  is  not  this  the  silly  Doctor  with  the  side 
bonet,  the  doting  foole  that  dare  presume  to  be- 
come a  suter  to  such  a  peerlesse  paragone  ?  O 
how  covetousnesse  doth  blind  the  common  sort 
of  men  !  Damon,  more  desirous  of  the  dower 
than  mindfull  of  his  gentle  and  gallant  daughter, 
hath  determined  to  make  him  his  sonne  in  law, 

4  dare.    Q3,  dares. 


Scene  IIII]  ^UPPOS?fS>  39 

who  for  his  age  may  be  his  father  in  law  :  and  lo 
hath  greater  respect  to  the  abundance  of  goods 
than  to  his  owne  natural!  childe.  He  beareth 
well  in  minde  to  fill  his  owne  purse,  but  he  litle 
remembreth  that  his  daughters  purse  shalbe  con- 
tinually emptie,  unlesse  Maister  Doctour  fill  it  15 
with  double  ducke  egges.  Alas  !  I  jest  and  have 
no  joy.  I  will  stand  here  aside  and  laugh  a  litle 
at  this  lobcocke. 

Dulippo  espieth  the  Doctor  and  his  man  com- 
ming. 

ScENA  iiii. 

Cariony  the  Doctors  man.     Cleander.     Dulipo. 

\_Carion.'j  Maister,  what  the  divel  meane  you 
to  goe  seeke  guestes  at  this  time  of  the  day  ? 
the  Maiors  officers  have  dined  ere  this  time, 
which  are  alway  the  last  in  the  market. 

Cleander.   I  come  to   seeke  Pasiphilo,  to  the     5 
ende  he  may  dine  with  mee. 

Ca.   As  though  sixe  mouthes  and  the  cat  for 
the  seventh  bee  not  sufficient  to  eate  an  harlotrie 
shotterell,  a  pennieworth  of  cheese,  and  halte  a 
score  spurlings  :   this  is  all  the  dainties  you  have    10 
dressed  for  you  and  your  familie. 

Cle.  Ah,  greedie  gut,  art  thou  afearde  thou 
shalt  want  ? 


40  g^UPpOSfefif  [Act  n. 

Ca,  I  am  afearde  in  deede ;  it  is  not  the  first 
time  I  have  founde  it  so.  15 

Dulipo  [aside\  .  Shall  I  make  some  sporte  with 
this  gallant  ?   what  shall  I  say  to  him  ? 

Cle.  Thou  arte  afearde   belike   that  he  will 
eate  thee  and  the  rest. 

Ca.   Nay,  rather  that  he  will  eate  your  mule,  20 
both  heare  and  hyde. 

Cle,   Heare  and  hyde  ?  and  why  not  flesh  and 
all? 

Ca.   Bicause  she  hath  none.    If  she  had  any 
flesh,  I  thinke  you  had  eaten  hir  your  selfe  by  25 
this  time. 

Clg.  She  may  thanke  you  then  for  your  good 
attendance. 

Ca,  Nay,  she  may  thanke  you  for  your  small 
allowance.  30 

Du.  [asidel^ .  In  faith  now  let  me  alone. 

Cle.   Holde   thy  peace,  drunken  knave,  and 
espie  me  Pasiphilo. 

Du.  ^aside'^.   Since  I  can  doe  no  better,  I  will 
set  such  a  staunce  betweene  him  and  Pasiphilo,  35 
that  all  this  towne  shall  not  make  them  friendes. 

Ca.  Could  you  not  have  sent  to  seeke  him, 
but  you  must  come  your  selfe  ?  Surely  you  come 
for  some  other  purpose,  for  if  you  would  have 
had  Pasiphilo  to  dinner,  I  warant  you  he  would  40 
have  taried  here  an  houre  since. 


Scene  Un.]  ^\XppO&t&  4 1 

Cie.   Holde  thy  peace  ;  here  is  one  of  Damons 
servaunts;  of  him  I  shall  understand  where    An  other 
he  is.    Good  fellow,  art  not  thou  one  of    supose. 
Damons  servaunts  ?  45 

Du.   Yes,  sir,  at  your  knamandement. 

Cle.   Gramercie,  tell  me  then, — hath  Pasiphilo 
bene  there  this  day  or  no  ? 

Du.  Yes,  sir,  and   I  thinke  he  be  there  still, 
ah,  ah,  ah.  5© 

C/e.  What  laughest  thou  .? 

Du.  At   a   thing    that    every  man    may  not 
laugh  at. 

Cle.   What? 

Du.  Talke  that  Pasiphilo  had  with  my  mas-  55 
ter  this  day. 

C/e.  What  talke,  I  pray  thee  ? 

Du.  I  may  not  tell  it. 

C/e.  Doth  it  concerne  me? 

Du.  Nay,  I  will  say  nothing.  6o 

C/e.  Tell  me. 

Du.  I  can  say  no  more. 

C/e.   I  woulde  but  knowe  if  it  concerne  mee. 
I  pray  thee  tell  me. 

Du.   I   would    tell    you,  if  I   were   sure  you  65 
would  not  tell  it  againe. 

C/e.   Beleve  me,  I  will  kepe  it  close.    Carion, 
give  us  leave  a  litle,  goe  aside. 

Du.    If   my   maister   shoulde    know   that   it 


42  §)UJPpO0eS;  [Act  II. 

came    by    me,   I   were   better   d?e   a   thousand  70 
deaths. 

Cle.   He  shall  never  know  it :   say  on. 

Du,  Yea,  but  what  assurance  shall  I  have  ? 

Cle.  I  lay  thee  my  faith  and  honestie  in 
paune.  75 

Du.  A  pretie  paune,  the  fulkers  will  not  lend 
you  a  farthing  on  it. 

Cle.  Yea,  but  amongst  honest  men  it  is  more 
worth  than  golde. 

Du.  Yea,  marie,  sir,  but  where  be  they  ?  but  80 
will  you  needes  have  me  tell  it  unto  you  ? 

Cle.  Yea,  I  pray  thee,  if  it  any  thing  apper- 
taine  to  me. 

•   Du.  Yes,  it  is  of  you,  and  I  would  gladly  tell 
it  you,  bicause  I  would  not  have  suche  a  man  of   85 
worship  so  scorned  by  a  villaine  ribaulde. 

Cle.  I  pray  thee  tell  me  then. 

Du.  I  will  tell  you  so  that  you  will  sweare 
never  to  tell  it  to  Pasiphilo,  to  my  maister,  nor 
to  any  other  bodie.  90 

Ca.  [aside~\ .  Surely  it  is  some  toye  devised  to 
get  some  money  of  him. 

Cle.   I  thinke  I  have  a  booke  here. 

Ca.    \_aside~\.   If  he  knew  him  as  well  as  I,  he 
woulde  never  goe  aboute  it,  for  he  may  as  soone  95 
get  one  of  his  teeth  from  his  jawes  with  a  paire 

77  °"-    Q3>  upon. 


Scene  im.]  ^UppOfii00  43 

of  pinchers,  as  a  pennie  out  of  his  purse  with  such 
a  conceite. 

Cle.   Here  is  a  letter  wil   serve  the  turne  :   I 
sweare  to  thee  by  the  contents  hereof  never  to  loo 
disclose  it  to  any  man. 

Du.  I  will  tell  you ;  I  am  sorie  to  see  how 
Pasiphilo  doth  abuse  you,  perswading  you  that 
alwayes  he  laboureth  for  you,  where  in  deede 
he  lieth  on  my  maister  continually,  as  it  were  105 
with  tooth  and  naile,  for  a  straunger,  a  scholer, 
borne  in  Sicilia  :  they  call  him  Roscus  or  ars- 
kisse,  he  hathe  a  madde  name,  I  can  never  hit 
upon  it. 

Cle.  And  thou  recknest  it  as  madly  :  is  it  not  no 
Erostrato  ? 

Du.  That  same;  I  should  never  have  remem- 
bred  it.  And  the  villany  speaketh  al  the  evill 
of  you  that  can  be  devised. 

Cle.   To  whom  ?  115 

Du.  To  my  maister;  yea,  and  to  Polynesta 
hirselfe  sometimes. 

Cle.  Is  it  possible  ?  Ah  slave,  and  what  saith 
he? 

Du.   More   evill    than    I   can   imagine:    that  120 
you  are  the  miserablest  and  most  nigardly  man 
that  ever  was. 

Cle.  Sayeth  Pasiphilo  so  by  me  .? 

113    'villany.     Qi,  Q3,  villaine. 


44  ^upposfeflf  [Act  n. 

Du.  And   that   as   often   as  he  commeth  to 
your  house,  he  is  like  to  die  for  hunger,  you  125 
fare  so  well. 

Cle.  That  the  devill  take  him  else. 

Du.  And  that  you  are  the  testiest  man,  and 
moste  divers  to  please  in  the  whole  worlde,  so 
that  he  cannot  please  you,  unlesse  he  should  130 
even  kill  himselfe  with  continuall  paine. 

Cle,  O  devilish  tong  ! 

Du.  Furthermore,  that  you  cough  continually 
and  spit,  so  that  a  dogge  cannot  abide  it. 

Cle.  I  never   spitte   nor   coughe    more   than  135 
thus,  vho  !   vho  !   and  that  but  since  I  caughte 
this  murre ;  but  who  is  free  from  it  ? 

Du.  You  say  true,  sir ;  yet  further  he  sayth, 
your  arme  holes  stincke,  your  feete  worse  than 
they,  and  your  breathe  worst  of  all.  140 

Cle.  If  I  quite  him  not  for  this  geare  ! 

Du.  And  that  you  are  bursten  in  the  cods. 

Cle.  O  villaine  !  he  lieth,  and  if  I  were  not 
in  the  streete,  thou  shouldest  see  them. 

Du.  And  he  saith,  that  you  desire  this  yongi45 
gentlewoman  as  much  for  other  mens  pleasure  as 
for  your  owne. 

Cle.   What  meaneth  he  by  that  ? 

Du.  Peradventure  that  by  hir  beautie  you 
woulde  entice  many  yong  men  to  your  house.     150 

142  hunten.    gi,  bursen. 


Scene  HH.]  g)UppOfifr0  45 

Cle.  Yong  men  ?  to  what  purpose  ? 

Du.  Nay,  gesse  you  that. 

Cle.  Is  it  possible  that  Pasiphilo  speaketh  thus 
of  me  ? 

Du.  Yea,  and  much  more.  155 

Cle.   And  doth  Damon  beleeve  him  ? 

Du.  Yea,  more  than  you  would  thinke  :  in 
such  sort,  that  long  ere  this  he  woulde  have 
given  you  a  flat  repulse,  but  Pasiphilo  intreated 
him  to  continue  you  a  suter  for  his  advantage.    160 

Cle.   How  for  his  advantage  ? 

Du.  Marie,  that  during  your  sute  he  might 
still  have  some  rewarde  for  his  great  paines. 

Cle.   He  shall  have  a  rope,  and  yet  that  is 
more  than  he  deserveth  :   I  had  thought  to  have  165 
given  him  these  hose  when  I  had  worne  them  a 
litle  nearer,  but  he  shall  have  a.  &c. 

Du.  In  good  faith,  sir,  they  were  but  loste 
on  him.  Will  you  any  thing  else  with  me, 
sir.  170 

Cle.  Nay,  I  have  heard  to  much  of  thee 
already. 

Du.  Then  I  will  take  my  leave  of  you. 

Cle.  Farewell,  but  tell  m.e,  may  I  not  know 
thy  name  ?  iy5 

Du.  Sir,  they  call  me  Foule  fall  you. 

Cle.  An  ill  favored  name,  by  my  trouthe : 
arte  thou  this  countrey  man  ? 


46  g)UppO6^e0  [Act  II. 

Du.  No,  sir,  I  was  borne  by  a  castle  men  cal 
Scabbe  catch  you  :   fare  you  well,  sir.  i8o 

\_Exit  Dulipo.'] 

Cle.  Farewel.  Oh  God,  how  have  I  bene 
abused  !  what  a  spokesman,  what  a  messanger 
had  I  provided  ! 

Car,  Why,  sir,  will  you  tarie  for  Pasiphilo 
till  we  die  for  hunger?  185 

Cle.  Trouble  me  not;  that  the  devill  take 
you  both  ! 

Car.  These  newes,  what  so  ever  they  be, 
like  him  not. 

Cle.  Art  thou  so  hungrie  yet  ?    I  pray  to  God  190 
thou  be  never  satisfied. 

Car.  By  the  masse,  no  more  I  shal,  as  long 
as  I  am  your  servaunt. 

Cle.    Goe  with  mischaunce  ! 

Car.    Yea,  and  a  mischiefe  to  you,  and  to  al  195 
such  covetous  wretches. 

194  luith.    Q3,  with  a. 

Finis  Actus  2. 


Actus  iii.    Scena  i. 

DaiiOy  the  cooke.    Crapine,  the  lackie. 
\Later\   ErostratOy  Dulipo. 

[Z)^//(7.]  By  that  time  we  come  to  the  house, 
I  truste  that  of  these  xx  egges  in  the  basket  we 
shall  find  but  very  few  whole.  But  it  is  a  folly  to 
talke  to  him.  What  the  devill,  wilt  thou  never  lay 
that  sticke  out  of  thy  hande  ?  He  fighteth  with  5 
the  dogges,  beateth  the  beares,  at  every  thing  in 
the  streate  he  findeth  occasion  to  tarie  :  if  he 
spie  a  slipstring  by  the  waye,  such  another  as 
himself,  a  page,  a  lackie  or  a  dwarfe,  the  devill 
of  hell  cannot  holde  him  in  chaynes,  but  he  will  10 
be  doing  with  him  ;  I  cannot  goe  two  steppes, 
but  I  muste  looke  backe  for  my  yonker  :  goe  to, 
halter-sicke,  if  you  breake  one  egge  I  may  chance 
breake,  &c. 

Crapino.   What  will  you  breake  ?  your  nose  in   15 
mine  &c.  ? 

Da.    Ah  beast ! 

Cra.    If  I  be  a  beast,  yet  I  am  no  horned  beast. 

Da.   Is  it  even  so  ?  is  the  winde  in  that  doore  ? 
If  I  were  unloden  I  would  tel  you  whether  I  be  20 
a  horned  beast  or  no. 

16  Sff.  Qi,  arse. 


48  §)UppO0r0  [Act  III. 

Cra.  You  are  alway  laden  either  with  wine 
or  with  ale. 

Da,  Ah  spitefuU  boy,  shall  I  suffer  him  ? 

[^Beats  him.~\ 

Cra.    Ah  cowardely  beast,  darest  thou  strike  25 
and  say  never  a  woorde  ? 

Da.  Well,  my  maister  shall  know  of  this 
geere ;  either  he  shall  redresse  it,  or  he  shall  lose 
one  of  us. 

Cra.  Tel  him  the  worst  thou  canst   Erostra\to'] 

by  me.  and  Du\_lipo'\ 

Ero.  What    noise,    what     a    rule    is   ^^  ^^P'o-vho.    , 
this  ?  f 

Cra.  Marie,  sir,  he  striketh  mee,  bicause  I 
tell  him  of  his  swearing.  35 

Da.  The  villaine  lieth  deadly  ;  he  reviles  me, 
bicause  I  bid  him  make  hast. 

Ero.  Holla  !  no  more  of  this.  Dalio,  doe  you 
make  in  a  readinesse  those  pigeons,  stock  doves, 
and  also  the  breast  of  veale  :  and  let  your  vessell  40 
be  as  cleare  as  glasse  against  I  returne,  that  I 
may  tell  you  which  I  will  have  roasted,  and 
which  boyled.  Crapine,  lay  downe  that  basket 
and  followe  me.  Oh,  that  I  coulde  tell  where 
to  finde  Pasiphilo  !  but  looke  where  he  commeth  45 
that  can  tell  me  of  him. 

Erostrato  .   .   .   improviso.    Qi  has  this  side-note. 


Scene  I.]  ^UPPO0e0  49 

Du,  What  have  you  done  with  Philo-   ^^^.     .^ 
gano  your  father  ?  espied  by 

Ero.  I  have  left  him  within.  I  would  Erourato. 
faine  speake  with  Pasiphilo  ;  can  you  tell  me  50 
where  he  is  ? 

Du.  He  dined  this  day  with  my  maister,  but 
whether  he  went  from  thence  I  know  not  :  what 
would  you  with  him  ? 

Ero.  I  woulde  have  him  goe  tell  Damon  that  55 
Philogano  my  father  is  come  and  ready  to  make 
assurance  of  as  much  as  he  wil  require.  Now 
shall  I  teach  Maister  Doctor  a  schole  point; 
he  travaileth  to  none  other  end  but  to  catche 
Cornua,  and  he  shall  have  them,  for  as  old  as  60 
he  is,  and  as  many  subtilties  as  he  hath  learned 
in  the  law,  he  can  not  goe  beyond  me  one  ace. 

Du.  O  deere  friend,  goe  thy  wayes,  seeke 
Pasiphilo,  finde  him  out  and  conclude  somewhat 
to  our  contentation.  65 

Ero.  But  where  shall  I  find  him  ? 

Du.  At  the  feasts,  if  there  be  any,  or  else  in 
the  market  with  the  poulters  or  the  fishmongers. 

Ero.   What  should  he  doe  with  them  ? 

Du.  Mary,  he  watcheth  whose  caters  bie  the  70 
best  meat.    If  any  bie  a  fat  capon,  a  good  breast 
of  veale,  fresh  samon,  or  any  suche  good  dishe, 
he  followeth  to  the  house,  and  either  with  some 

Dulipo  .    .    .    Erostrato.    Qi  has  this  side-note. 


50  ^UPpOSff  0  [Act  m. 

newes  or  some  stale  jest  he  will  be  sure  to  make 
himselfe  a  geast.  75 

Ero.  In  faith,  and  I  will  seeke  there  for  him. 

Du.  Then  muste  you  needes  finde  him,  and 
when  you  have  done,  I  will  make  you  laughe. 

Ero,    Whereat  ? 

Du,    At  certaine  sport  I   made  to  day  with  go 
Master  Doctor. 

Ero.    And  why  not  now  ? 

Du.  No,  it  asketh  further  leysure  ;  I  pray  thee 
dispatche,  and  finde  out  Pasiphilo  that  honest 
man.  Dulipo  tarieth.    Erostrato  goeth  out.    85 

SCENA   ii. 

Dulipo  alone, 

^Dulipo^  This  amorous  cause  that  hangeth 
in  controversie  betwene  Domine  Doctor  and  me, 
may  be  compared  to  them  that  play  at  primero : 
of  whom  some  one  peradventure  shal  leese  a 
great  sum  of  money  before  he  win  one  stake,  5 
and  at  last  halfe  in  anger  shal  set  up  his  rest  : 
win  it :  and  after  that  another,  another,  and 
another,  till  at  last  he  draw  the  most  part  of  the 
money  to  his  heape,  the  other  by  litle  and  litle 
stil  diminishing  his  rest,  til  at  last  he  be  come  as  10 
neere  the  brinke,  as  earst  the  other  was  :  yet 

"J ^  geast.    Q 3,  guest.  ^  some.    Q 3  omits. 


Scene  ni]  ^UppO$t&  5 1 

again  peradventure  fortune  smiling  on  him,  he 
shal,  as  it  were  by  peece  meale,  pull  out  the  guts 
of  his  fellows  bags,  and  bring  him  barer  than  he 
himselfe  was  tofore,  and  so  in  play  continue  stil,  15 
(fortune  favoring  now  this  way,  now  that  way) 
til  at  last  the  one  of  them  is  left  with  as  many 
crosses  as  God  hath  brethren.  O  howe  often 
have  I  thoughte  my  selfe  sure  of  the  upper  hande 
herein  !  but  I  triumphed  before  the  victorie.  20 
And  then  how  ofte  againe  have  I  thoughte  the 
iielde  loste  !  Thus  have  I  beene  tossed  nowe 
over,  nowe  under,  even  as  fortune  list  to  whirle 
the  wheele,  neither  sure  to  winne  nor  certayne 
to  loose  the  wager.  And  this  practise  that  nowe  25 
my  servaunte  hath  devised,  although  hitherto  it 
hath  not  succeeded  amisse,  yet  can  I  not  count 
my  selfe  assured  of  it :  for  I  feare  still  that  one 
mischance  or  other  wyll  come  and  turne  it  topsie 
turvie.  But  looke  where  my  master  commeth.  30 
Damon  comming  in  espieth  Dulipo,  and  call- 
eth  him. 

ScENA   iii. 

Damony  Dulipo.   [^Later]   Nevo/a,  andtzuo  mo  servants. 

^Damon^    Dulipo  ! 

Dulipo.   Here,  sir. 

Da.   Go  in  and  bid  Nevola  and  his  fellowes 


52  g>UJPPO0e0  [Act  in. 

come  hither  that  I  may  tell  them  what  they  shall 
goe  about,  and  go  you  into  my  studie  :  there  5 
upon  the  shelfe  you  shall  find  a  roule  of  writings 
which  John  of  the  Deane  made  to  my  father 
when  he  solde  him  the  Grange  ferme,  endorced 
with  bothe  their  names  :  bring  it  hither  to  me. 
Du.   It  shall  be  done,  sir.  \_Dulipo  exit.'\    10 

Da.   Go,  I  wil  prepare  other  maner  of  writ- 
ings for  you  than  you  are  aware  of.    O  fooles, 
that  trust  any  man  but  themselves  now  adaies  : 
oh   spiteful  fortune,   thou   doest   me  wrong,   I 
thinke,  that  from  the  depth  of  hell  pitte  thou   15 
haste  sente  mee  this  servaunt  to  be  the  subver- 
sion of  me  and  all  mine.    Come  hither,    rj,^^  ^^^_ 
sirs,  and  heare  what  I  shal  say  unto  you  :    vants 
go  into  my  studie,  where  you  shall  finde    ^°"^^  ^"* 
Dulipo,  step  to  him  all  at  once,  take  him  and  20 
(with  a  corde  that  I  have  laide  on  the  table  for 
the  nonce)  bind  him  hande  and  foote,  carie  him 
into  the  dungeon  under  the  stayres,  make  faste 
the  dore  and  bring  me  the  key ;   it  hangeth  by 
upon  a  pin  on  the  wall.    Dispatche,  and  doe  this 
geare  as  privily  as  you  can  :   and  thou,  Nevola, 
come  hither  to  me  againe  with  speede. 

Nevola.   Well,  I  shall.      \_The  servants  go  out.'] 
Da.   Alas,  how  shall   I   be  revenged  of  this 
extreme  despite  ?    If  I   punishe  my  servant  ac- 
cording  to  his  divelishe  deserts,  I  shall  heape 

28  fVelL    Qi,  Well,  sir. 


Scene  HI.]  g>UppO0efil  53 

further  Cc  res  upon  mine  owne  head :  for  to 
suche  detestable  offences  no  punishment  can 
seeme  sufficie.  t,  but  onely  death,  and  in  such 
cases  it  is  not  lav'^ful  for  a  man  to  be  his  owne  35 
carver.  The  lawes'  are  ordeyned,  and  officers 
appoynted  to  minister  justice  for  the  redresse  of 
wrongs  :  and  if  to  the  potestates  I  complayne 
me,  I  shall  publishe  mine  owne  reproche  to  the 
worlde.  Yea,  what  should  it  prevayle  me  to  use  4° 
all  the  punishments  that  can  be  devised  ?  the 
thing  once  done  can  not  be  undone.  My  daugh- 
ter is  defloured,  and  I  utterly  dishonested  :  how 
can  I  then  wype  that  blot  off  my  browe  ?  and  on 
whome  shall  I  seeke  revenge  ?  Alas,  alas,  I  my  45 
selfe  have  bene  the  cause  of  all  these  cares,  and 
have  deserved  to  beare  the  punishment  of  all 
these  mishappes.  Alas,  I  should  not  have  com- 
mitted my  dearest  darling  in  custodie  to  so  care- 
lesse  a  creature  as  this  olde  Nurse  :  for  we  see  5° 
by  common  proofe  that  these  olde  women  be 
either  peevishe  or  pitifull  :  either  easily  enclined 
to  evill,  or  quickly  corrupted  with  bribes  and 
rewards.  O  wife,  my  good  wife  (that  nowe  lyest 
colde  in  the  grave),  now  may  I  well  bewayle  the  55 
wante  of  thee,  and  mourning  nowe  may  I  bemone 
that  I  misse  thee  !   if  thou  hadst  liven  (suche 

43  /  utterly.    Qi  omits  I. 
^x  pitifull.    Qi,  to  pitifull. 


54  g>appOS(t0  [Act  III. 

was  thy  governement  of  the  least  things)  that 
thou  wouldest  prudently  have  pro',  ided  for  the 
preservation  of  this  pearle.  A  co  dy  jewell  may  60 
I  well  accompte  hir,  that  hath  been  my  cheefe 
comforte  in  youth,  and  is  no  /e  become  the  coro- 
sive  of  mine  age.  O  Poiynesta,  full  evill  hast 
thou  requited  the  clemencie  of  thy  carefull  fa- 
ther :  and  yet  to  excuse  thee  giltlesse  before  65 
God,  and  to  condemne  thee  giltie  before  the 
worlde,  I  can  count  none  other  but  my  wretched 
selfe  the  caytife  and  causer  of  all  my  cares.  For 
of  al  the  dueties  that  are  requisite  in  humane 
lyfe,  onely  obedience  is  by  the  parents  to  be  re-  70 
quired  of  the  childe  :  where  on  the  other  side 
the  parents  are  bound  first  to  beget  them,  then 
to  bring  them  foorth,  after  to  nourish  them,  to 
preserve  them  from  bodily  perils  in  the  cradle, 
from  daunger  of  soule  by  godly  education,  to  75 
matche  them  in  consorte  enclined  to  vertue,  too 
banish  them  all  ydle  and  wanton  companie,  to 
allow  them  sufficiente  for  their  sustentation,  to 
cut  ofF  excesse  the  open  gate  of  sinne,  seldome 
or  never  to  smile  on  them  unlesse  it  be  to  their  80 
encouragement  in  vertue,  and  finally,  to  provide 
them  mariages  in  time  convenient,  lest  (neg- 
lected of  us)  they  learne  to  sette  either  to  much 
or  to  litle  by  themselves.    Five  yeares  are  past 

79  cut.    Q3,  cull. 


Scene  HH.]  ^UppO0e0  55 

since   I   might  have  maried  hir,  when   by  con-  85 
tinuall  excuses  I  have  prolonged  it  to  my  owne 
perdition.    Alas,  I  shoulde  have  considered  she  is 
a  collop  of  my  owne  flesh  :   what  shold  I  think 
to   make  hir  a   princesse  ?    Alas,  alas,  a   poore 
kingdome  have    I    now   caught    to  endowe  hir  90 
with.    It   is   too  true  that  of  all  sorowes  this  is 
the  head  source  and  chiefe  fountaine  of  all  furies. 
The  goods  of  the  world  are  incertain,  the  gaines 
to  be  rejoyced  at,  and  the  losse  not  greatly  to  be 
lamented  :   only  the  children  cast  away,  cutteth  95 
the    parents    throate  with  the  knife  of  inward 
care,  which  knife  will  kill  me  surely,  I  make 
none  other  accompte. 

Damons  servants  come  to  him  againe. 

ScENA  iiii. 
Nevola,  Damon.     [Later~\  Pasiphilo. 

\_Nevola.'\    Sir,  we  have  done    as   you  badde 
us,  and  here  is  the  key. 

Damon.  Well,  go  then,  Nevola,  and    seeke 
master  Casteling  the  jayler ;   he  dwelleth  by  S. 
Antonies   gate ;   desire  him  too  lend  me  a  paire     5 
of  the    fetters   he  useth   for  his   prisoners,  and 
come  againe  quickly. 

A^^.  Well,  sir. 

Da.   Heare  you,  if  he  aske  what  I  would  do 


56  g)UppO0efll  [Act  III. 

with  them,  say  you  can  not  tell,  and  tell  neither  lo 
him  nor  any  other  what  is  become  of  Dulipo. 

Damon  goeth  out. 

\Ne.'\   I  warant  you,  sir.  Fye  upon  the  devill, 
it  is  a  thing  almost  unpossible  for  a  man      An  other 
nowe  a  dayes  to  handle  money,  but  the      suppose. 
mettal  will  sticke  on  his  fingers:   I  marvelled  15 
alway  at  this  fellowe  of  mine,  Dulipo,  that  of 
the  wages  he  received  he  could  maintaine  him- 
selfe  so  bravely  apparelled,  but  nowe  I  perceive 
the  cause ;  he  had  the  disbursing  and  receit  of 
all  my  masters  affaires,  the  keys  of  the  granair :  20 
Dulippo  here,  Dulippo  there,  [in]  favoure  with 
my  maister,  in  favoure  with  his  daughter;  what 
woulde   you  more  \   he   was   magister  factotum  : 
he  was  as  fine  as  the  crusadoe,  and  wee   silly 
wretches  as  course  as  canvas ;  wel,  behold  what  25 
it  is  come  to  in  the  ende ;   he  had  bin    p^^-  ^^^^-^v 
better  to  have  done  lesse.  &  impro-viso 

Pasiphilo.  Thou    saist   true,  Nevola,    '^'''"''• 
he  hath  done  to  much  in  deed. 

Ne,  From  whence  commest  thou,  in  the  devils  30 
name  ? 

Pa.    Out  of  the    same    house    thou    earnest 
from,  but  not  out  of  the  same  dore  ? 

Ne.  We  had  thought  thou  hadst  bene   gone 
long  since.  35 

Damon  goeth  out.    Omitted  in  Qi.    21   f«,  Ql,  Q3.    Q2  omits. 
Past.    .   .    .   'venit.    Qi  has  this  side-note. 


Scene  nn.]  ^XippO&tS  57 

Pa.  When  I  arose  from  the  table,  I  felte  a 
rumbling  in  my  belly,  whiche  made  me  runne  to 
the  stable,  and  there  I  fell  on  sleepe  uppon  the 
strawe,  and  have  line  there  ever  since.  And 
thou,  whether  goest  thou  ?  40 

Ne.  My  master  hath  sent  me  on  an  errand  in 
great  hast. 

Pa.  Whether,  I  pray  thee  ? 

Ne.  Nay,  I  may  not  tell.    Farewell. 

Pa.  As  though  I  neede  any  further  instruc-  45 
tions  !  O  God,  what  newes  I  heard  even  now  as 
I  lay  in  the  stable.    O  good  Erostrato  and  pore 
Cleander,  that   have  so  earnestly  stroven  An  other 
for  this  damsel,  happie  is  he  that  can  get  suppose. 
hir,  I  promise  you.    He  shall  be  sure  of  mo  than   50 
one  at  a  clap  that  catcheth  hir,  eyther  Adam  or 
Eve  within  hir  belie.    O  God,  how  men  may  be 
deceived  in  a  woman  !   Who  wold  have  beleeved 
the  contrary  but  that  she  had  bin  a  virgin  ?  Aske 
the  neighbours,  and  you  shall  heare  very  good  55 
report  of   hir :    marke   hir   behaviors,   and  you 
would  have  judged  hir  very  maydenly  ;  seldome 
seene  abroade  but  in  place  of  prayer,  and  there 
very  devout,  and  no  gaser  at  outwarde  sightes, 
no  blaser  of  hir  beautie  above  in  the  windowes,  60 
no  stale  at    the  doore  for  the   bypassers :  you 

61   sta/e.    Qi,  stal. 


58  ^uppoflfesf  [AcTin. 

would  have  thought  hir  a  holy  yong  woman. 
But  muche  good  doe  it.  Domine  Doctor,  hee 
shall  be  sure  to  lacke  no  corne  in  a  deare  yere, 
whatsoever  he  have  with  hir  else  :  I  beshrewe 
me  if  I  let  the  mariage  any  way.  But  is  not  this 
the  old  scabbed  queane  that  I  heard  disclosing 
all  this  geere  to  hir  master  as  I  stoode  in  the 
stable  ere  nowe  ?  it  is  shee.  Whither  goeth 
Psiteria  .?  Pasiphilo  espieth  Psiteria  comming. 

ScENA  v. 
Psiteriay  Pasiphilo. 

^Psiteria.'j    To  a  gossip  of  myne  heereby. 

Pasiphilo.  What  ?  to  tattle  of  the  goodly  stirre 
that  thou  keptst  concerning  Polynesta. 

Ps.  No,  no  :  but  how  knew  you  of  that  geere? 

Pa.  You  tolde  me. 

Ps.  I  ?  when  did  I  tell  you  ? 

Pa.  Even  now,  when  you  tolde  it  to  Damon  ; 
I  both  sawe  you  and  heard  you,  though  you  saw 
not  me.  A  good  parte,  I  promise  you,  to  accuse 
the  poore  wenche,  kill  the  olde  man  with  care, 
over  and  besides  the  daunger  you  have  brought 
Dulipo  and  the  Nursse  unto,  and  many  moe ; 
fie,  fie  ! 

63  doe  it.    Qi  adds  you. 

64  Corne,  in  capitals,  Q2,  Q3,  but  not  in  Qi. 


Scene  v.]     ^  g)lippO0e0  59 

Ps.  In  deed  I  was  to  blame,  but  not  so  much 
as  you  think.  15 

Pa.  And  how  not  so  muche  ?  did  I  not  heare 
you  tell  ? 

Ps.  Yes.  But  I  will  tell  you  how  it  came  to 
passe.  I  have  knowen  for  a  great  while  that  this 
Dulipo  and  Polynesta  have  lyen  togither,  and  all  20 
by  the  meanes  of  the  Nurse :  yet  1  held  my 
peace,  and  never  tolde  it.  Now  this  other  day 
the  Nursse  fell  on  scolding  with  me,  and  twyce 
or  thryce  called  me  drunken  olde  whore,  and 
suche  names  that  it  was  too  badde  :  and  I  called  25 
hir  baude,  and  tolde  hir  that  I  knew  well  enoughe 
howe  often  she  had  brought  Dulipo  to  Polynestas 
bed :  yet  all  this  while  I  thought  not  that  anye 
body  had  heard  me,  but  it  befell  cleane  con- 
trarye ;  for  my  maister  was  on  the  other  side  of  30 
the  wall,  and  heard  all  our  talke,  whereupon  he 
sent  for  me,  and  forced  me  to  confesse  all  that 
you  heard. 

Pa.  And  why  wouldest  thou  tell  him  ?  I 
woulde  not  for.  &c.  35 

Ps.  Well,  if  I  had  thought  my  maister  would 
have  taken  it  so,  he  should  rather  have  killed 
me. 

Pa.   Why  ?   how  could  he  take  it  ? 

Ps.  Alas,  it  pitieth  me  to  see  the  poore  yong  40 
woman  how  she  weepes,  wailes,  and  teares  hir 


6o  ^uppo0r0  *     [Acrm. 

heare :  not  esteming  hir  owne  life  halfe  so  deare 
as  she  doth  poore  Dulipos;  and  hir  father,  he 
weepes  on  the  other  side,  that  it  would  pearce 
an  hart  of  stone  with  pitie :  but  I  must  be  gone.  45 

\_Psiteria  exit.~\ 
Pa.   Go,  that  the  gunne  pouder  consume  thee, 
olde  trotte ! 


Finis  Actus  3. 


Actus  iiii.    Scena  i. 

Erostrato  fained. 

\_Erostraio.']  What  shall  I  doe  ?  Alas,  what 
remedie  shall  I  iinde  for  my  ruefull  estate  ?  what 
escape,  or  what  excuse  may  I  now  devise  to 
shifte  over  our  subtile  supposes  ?  for  though  to 
this  day  I  have  usurped  the  name  of  my  maister,  5 
and  that  without  checke  or  controll  of  any  man, 
now  shal  I  be  openly  discyphred,  and  that  in 
the  sight  of  every  man  :  now  shal  it  openly  be 
knowen,  whether  I  be  Erostrato  the  gentleman, 
or  Dulipo  the  servaunt.  We  have  hitherto  played  10 
our  parts  in  abusing  others  :  but  nowe  commeth 
the  man  that  wil  not  be  abused,  the  right  Philo- 
gano,  the  right  father  of  the  right  Erostrato  : 
going  to  seke  Pasiphilo,  and  hearing  that  he  was 
at  the  water  gate,  beholde  I  espied  my  fellowe  15 
Litio,  and  by  and  by  my  olde  maister  Philogano 
setting  forth  his  first  step  on  land  :  I  to  fuge 
and  away  hither  as  fast  as  I  could  to  bring  word 
to  the  right  Erostrato  of  his  right  ^  her  Philo- 
gano, that  to  so  sodaine  a  mishap  some  subtile  20 
shift  might  be  upon  the  sodaine  devised.  But 
what  can  be   imagined  to   serve  the  turne,  al- 

15  fellotue.    Qi    has  ser%iaur:t  in  the  text  ind  /elloive  in    the 
"  Faultes  escaped  correction." 


62  ^UPPO&ti  [Act  IIII. 

though  we  had  [a]  monethes  respite  to  beate 
oure  braines  about  it,  since  we  are  commonly 
knowen,  at  the  least  supposed  in  this  towne,  he  : 
for  Dulipo,  a  slave  and  servant  to  Damon,  and 
I  for  Erostrato  a  gentleman  an  a  student  ?  But 
beholde  !  runne,  Crapine,  to  yonder  olde  woman 
before  she  get  within  the  doores,  and  desire  hir  to 
call  out  Dulipo  :  but,  heare  you?  if  she  aske  who 
would  speake  with  him,  saye  thy  selfe  and  none 
other.  Erostrato  espieth  Psiteria  comming^  and 

sendeth  his  lackey  to  hir. 

SCENA    ii. 
Crapine t  Psiteria^  Erostrato  fained. 

\Crapino^  Honest  woman,  you  gossip,  thou 
rotten  whore,  hearest  thou  not,  olde  witche  ? 

Psiteria.  A  rope  stretche  your  yong  bones  : 
either  you  muste  live  to  be  as  old  as  I,  or  be 
hanged  while  you  are  yong. 

Cra.  I  pray  thee,  loke  if  Dulipo  be  within. 

Ps.  Yes,  that  he  is,  I  warrant  him. 

Cra,  Desire  him,  then,  to  come  hither  and 
speake  a  word  with  me ;  he  shall  not  tarie. 

Ps.   Content  your  selfe,  he  is  otherwise  oc-  lo" 
cupied. 

Cra.  Yet,  tell  him  so,  gentle  girle. 
23  ^,  Qi-   Q2,  Q3  omit. 


Scene  III.]  ^UppO0e0  63 

Ps.   I  tell  you  he  is  busie. 

Cra.  Why,  is  it  such  a  matter  to  tell  him  so, 
thou  crooked  crone  ?  15 

Ps.  A  rope  stretche  you,  marie. 

Cra.  A  pockes  eate  you,  marie. 

Ps.  Thou  wilt  be  hanged,  I  warant  thee,  if 
thou  live  to  it. 

Cra.  And  thou  wilt  be  burnt,  I  warant  thee,  20 
if  the  canker  consume  thee  not. 

Ps.   If  I  come  neere  you,  hempstring,  I  will 
teache  you  to  sing  sol  fa. 

Cra.   Come  on  j  and  if  I  get  a   stone  I  will 
scare  crowes  with  you.  25 

Ps.    Goe  with  a  mischiefe ;  I  thinke  thou  be 
some  devill  that  woulde  tempte  me. 

Era.  Crapine  :  heare  you  ?  come  away,  let  hir 
goe  with  a  vengeance !  why  come  you  not  ?  Alas, 
loke  where  my  maister  Philogano  commeth  :  30 
what  shall  I  doe  ?  where  shall  I  hide  me  ?  he 
shall  not  see  me  in  these  clothes,  nor  before  I 
have  spoken  with  the  right  Erostrato. 

Erostrato   espyeth   Phylogano   commirig,  and 
runneth  about  to  hide  him. 

ScENA   iii. 
Philogano.   Ferrarese,  the  Inne  keper.   Litio,  a  servant. 

\_Philogano.'\    Honest   man,  it  is  even   so  :  be 
you  sure  there  is  no  love  to  be  compared  like  the 


64  §)UppO0e0  [Act  im. 

love  of  the  parents  towards  their  children.  It 
is  not  long  since  I  thought  that  a  very  waightie 
matter  shoulde  not  have  made  me  come  out  of  5 
Sicilia,  and  yet  now  I  have  taken  this  tedious 
toyle  and  travaile  upon  me  only  to  see  my  sonne, 
and  to  have  him  home  with  me. 

Fer.    By  my  faith,  sir,  it   hath  ben  a  great 
travaile  in  dede,  and  to  much  for  one  of  your  10 
age. 

Phi.  Yea,  be  you  sure  :    I  came  in  companie 
with  certaine  gentlemen  of  my  countrey,  who 
had  affaires  to  dispatche  as  far  as  to  Ancona,  from 
thence  by  water  too  Ravenna,  and  from  Ravenna   15 
hither,  continually  against  the  tide. 

Fer.  Yea,  and  I  think  that  you  had  but 
homly  lodging  by  the  way. 

Phi.  The  worst  that  ever  man  had :  but  that 
was  nothing  to  the  stirre  that  the  serchers  kept  10= 
with  me  when  I  came  aborde  the  ship.  Jesus ! 
how  often  they  untrussed  my  male,  and  ransaked 
a  litle  capcase  that  I  had,  tossed  and  turned  al 
that  was  within  it,  serched  my  bosome,  yea, 
my  breeches,  that  I  assure  you  I  thought  they  25 
would  have  flayed  me,  to  searche  betwene  the 
fell  and  the  fleshe  for  fardings. 

Fer.  Sure  I  have  heard  no  lesse,  and  that 
the  marchants  bobbe  them  somtimes ;  but  they 
play  the  knaves  still.  30 


Scene  IH.]  g)UppO0e0  65 

Phi.  Yea,  be  you  well  assured,  suche  an 
office  is  the  inheritance  of  a  knave,  and  an 
honest  man  will  not  meddle  with  it. 

Per.  Wei,  this  passage  shal  seme  pleasant 
unto  you,  when  you  shall  finde  your  childe  35 
in  health  and  well :  but  I  praye  you,  sir,  why  did 
you  not  rather  send  for  him  into  Sicilia,  than 
to  come  your  selfe,  specially  since  you  had 
none  other  businesse  ?  peradventure  you  had 
rather  endanger  your  selfe  by  this  noysome  jour-  40 
ney  than  hazard  to  drawe  him   from  his  studie. 

Phi.  Nay,  that  was  not  the  matter,  for  I  had 
rather  have  him  give  over  his  studie  altogither 
and  come  home. 

Per.   Why  ?   if  you  minded  not  to  make   him  45 
learned,  to  Vvhat  ende  did  you  send  him  hither 
at  the  first  ? 

Phi.  I  will  tell  you  :  when  he  was  at  home 
he  did  as  most  yong  men  doe,  he  played  many 
mad  prankes  and  did  many  things  that  liked  me  50 
not  very  well :  and  I  thinking  that  by  that 
time  he  had  sene  the  worlde,  he  would  learne 
to  know  himselfe  better,  exhorted  him  to  studie, 
and  put  in  his  election  what  place  he  would  go 
to.  At  the  last  he  came  hither,  and  I  thinke  he  55 
was  scarce  here  so  sone  as   I   felt  the  want  of 

31    suche.    Q I,  for  suche. 

36  in  health  and  ivell.    Q3,  well  and  in  health. 


66  ^UJPPOS|00  [Act  im. 

him,  in  suche  sorte  as  from  that  day  to  this  I 
have  passed  fewe  nightes  without  teares.  I 
have  written  to  him  very  often  that  he  shoulde 
come  home,  but  continually  he  refused  stil,  be-  60 
seching  me  to  continue  his  studie,  wherein  he 
doubted  not  (as  he  said)  but  to  profite  greatly. 

Fer.  In  dede  he  is  very  much  commended  of 
al  men,  and  specially  of  the  best  reputed  stu- 
dentes.  65 

Phi.  I  am  glad  he  hath  not  lost  his  time,  but 
I  care  not  greatly  for  so  muche  knowledge.  I 
would  not  be  without  the  sighte  of  hym  againe 
so  long  for  all  the  learning  in  the  worlde.  I  am 
olde  nowe,  and  if  God  shoulde  call  mee  in  his  70 
absence,  I  promise  you  I  thinke  it  woulde  drive 
me  into  disperation. 

Fer.  It  is  commendable  in  a  man  to  love  his 
children,  but  to  be  so  tender  over  them  is  more 
womanlike.  75 

Phi.  Well,  I  confesse  it  is  my  faulte  :  and 
yet  I  will  tell  you  another  cause  of  my  com- 
ming  hither  more  waightie  than  this.  Divers 
of  my  countrey  have  bene  here  since  hee  came 
hither,  by  whome  I  have  sente  unto  him ;  and  80 
some  of  them  have  bene  thrice,  some  foure  or 
five  times  at  his  house,  and  yet  could  never 
speake  with  him.     I  feare  he  applies  his  studie 

60  refused  stil.    Q3  puts  the  comma  before  stil. 


Scene  mi.]  ^UppO0fSf  67 

SO  that  he  will  not  leese  the  minute  of  an  houre 
from  his  booke.  What  !  alas !  he  might  yet  85 
talke  with  his  countrymen  for  a  while  :  he  is  a 
yong  man,  tenderly  brought  up,  and  if  he  fare 
thus  continually  night  and  day  at  his  booke,  it 
may  be  enough  to  driv^e  him  into  a  frenesie. 

Fer.   In  dede,  enough  were  as  good  as  a  feast.   90 
Loe   you,  sir,  here  is  your   sonne   Erostratoes 
house.    I  will  knocke. 

Phi.  Yea,  I  pray  you  knocke.        \_He  knocks.'] 

Fer.   They  heare  not. 

Phi.    Knocke  againe.  {More  knocking.]   95 

Fer.  I  thinke  they  be  on  slepe. 

Litio.  If  this   gate  were  your   grandefathers 

soule,  you  coulde  not  knocke  more  softly ;  let 

me  come  :  ho  !   ho  !    is  there  any  body  within  ? 

Dalio  commeth  to  the  zuyndowey  and  there 

maketh  them  answers. 

ScENA  iiii. 

Dalio,  the  cooke.  Ferarese,  the  inholder.    Philogano. 
LitiOy  his  man. 

\palio.'\  What  devill  of  hell  is  there  ?  I 
thinke  hee  will  breake  the  gates  in  peeces. 

Litio.  Marie,  sir,  we  had  thoughte  you  had 
beene  on  sleepe  within,  and  therefore  we  thought 
best  to  wake  you.    What  doth  Erostrato  ?  $ 


68  ^IXppO&tfii  [Act  im. 

Da.   He  is  not  within. 

Philogano,  Open  the  dore,  good  fellow,  I  pray 
thee. 

Da.  If  you  thinke  to  lodge  here,  you  are  de- 
ceived, I  tell  you,  for  here  are  guestes  enowe  lo 
already. 

Phi.  A  good  fellow,  and  much  for  thy  maister 
honesty,  by  our  Ladie  !  and  what  guestes,  I  pray 
thee  ? 

Da.   Here    is    Philogano,    my    maisters   An  other 
father,  lately  come  out  of  Sicilia.  suppose. 

Phi.  Thou  speakest  truer  than  thou  arte 
aware  of;  he  will  be,  by  that  time  thou  hast 
opened  the  dore.    Open,  I  pray  thee  hartily. 

Da.  It  is  a  small  matter  for  me  to  open  the  20 
dore,  but  here  is  no  lodging  for  you ;  I  tell  you 
plaine,  the  house  is  full. 

Phi.   Of  whome  ? 

Da.  I  tolde  you  :  here  is  Philogano,  my  mais- 
ters father,  come  from  Cathanea.  25 

Phi.  And  when  came  he  ? 

Da.  He  came  three  houres  since,  or  more ; 
he  alighted  at  the  Aungell,  and  left  his  horses 
there  :  afterwarde  my  maister  brought  him  hither. 

Phi.   Good    fellow,  I  thinke  thou  hast   good  30 
sport  to  mocke  mee. 

Da.  Nay,  I  thinke  you  have  good  sporet  to 

32  sporet.    Qi,  sporte.    Q3,  sport. 


Scene  mi.]  g)UppO0e0  69 

make  me  tary  here,  as  though  I  have  nothing 
else   to   doe :  I    am    matched    with   an    unrulye 
mate  in  the  kitchin.     I  will  goe  looke  to  him  35 
another  while. 

Phi.  I  thinke  he  be  drunken. 

Ferarese.  Sure  he  semes  so  :  see  you  not  how 
redde  he  is  about  the  gilles  ? 

Phi.  Abide,    fellow !    what    Philogano    is    it  40 
whome  thou  talkest  of? 

Da.  An  honest  gentleman,  father  to  Erostrato, 
my  maister. 

Phi.  And  where  is  he  ? 

Da.   Here  within.  45 

Phi.  May  we  see  him  ? 

Da.  I  thinke  you  may,  if  you  be  not  blind. 

Phi.   Go   to  !   go   tel   him   here  is  one  wold 
speake  with  him. 

Da.   Mary,  that  I  will  willingly  doe.  50 

Phi.  I  can  not  tell  what  I  shoulde  say  to  this 
geere,  Litio.    What  thinkest  thou  of  it  ? 

Li.   I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  shoulde  say,  sir ; 
the  worlde  is  large  and  long;  there  maye  be  An  other 
moe   Philoganos  and  moe  Erostratos  than  suppose, 
one  ;  yea,  and  moe  Ferraras,  moe  Sicilias,  and 
moe   Cathaneas  :    peradventure  this   is   not  that 
Ferrara  whiche  you  sent  your  sonne  unto. 

Phi.   Peradventure  thou  arte  a  foole,  and  he 
was  another  that  answered  us   even  now.    But  60 


70  §)UppO0e0  [Act  im. 

be  you  sure,  honest  man,  that   you  mistake  not 
the  house  ? 

Fer,  Nay,  then,  God  helpe  !  thinke  you  I 
knowe  not  Erostratos  house  ?  yes,  and  himselfe 
also.  I  sawe  him  here  no  longer  since  than 
yesterday.  But  here  commes  one  that  wil  tell 
us  tydings  of  him :  I  like  his  countenaunce  bet- 
ter than  the  [other]  that  answered  at  the  win- 
dowe  erewhile. 

Dalio  draweth  his  bed  in  at  the  wjndowe  • 
the  Scenese  commeth  out. 


SCENA  V. 

Scenese^  Philogano,  Dalio. 
^Ferarese.     Litio.  ] 

[^Scenese.'j    Would  you  speake  with  me  sir  ? 

Philogano.  Yea,  sir,  I  would  faine  knowe 
whence  you  are. 

See.  Sir,  I  am  a  Sicilian,  at  your  commaunde- 
ment. 

Phi.   What  part  of  Sicilia  ? 

See.   Of  Cathanea. 

Phi.   What  shall  I  call  your  name  ? 

See.   My  name  is  Philogano. 

Phi.   What  trade  doe  you  occupie  ? 

See.   Marchandise. 

68   other.    Qq,  others.  at.    Q3,  us  at. 


Scene  v.]  g)UJjpO0e0  7 1 

Phi.   What  marchandise  brought  you  hither  ? 

See.  None,  I  came  onely  to  see  a  sonne  that 
I  have  here  whom  I  sawe  not  these  two  yeares. 

Phi.   What  call  they  your  sonne  ?  15 

See.   Erostrato. 

Phi.  Is  Erostrato  your  sonne  ? 

See.   Yea,  verily. 

Phi.   And  are  you  Philogano? 

See.   The  same.  20 

Phi.  And  a  marchant  of  Cathanea  ? 

See.   What,  neede  I  tell  you  so  often  ?    I  will 
not  tell  you  a  lye. 

Phi.  Yes,  you  have  told  me  a  false  lie ;  and 
thou  arte  a  vilaine,  and  no  better  !  25 

See.  Sir,  you  offer  me  great  wrong  with  these 
injurious  wordes. 

Phi.   Nay,  I  will  doe  more  than   I  have  yet 
proffered  to  doe,  for  I  will  prove  thee  a  Iyer, 
and  a  knave  to  take  upon  thee  that  thou  art  30 
not. 

See.  Sir,  I  am  Philogano  of  Cathanea,  Astoute 
out  of  all  doubte ;  if  I  were  not,  I  would  suppose. 
be  loth  to  tell  you  so. 

Phi.  Oh,  see  the  boldnesse  of  this  brute  beast !  35 
what  a  brazen  face  he  setteth  on  it  ! 

See.   Well,  you  may  beleve  me  if  you  liste : 
what  wonder  you  ? 

Phi.   I  wonder  at  thy  impudencie ;   for  thou, 


72  g^UppOfifeflf  [Act  IIII. 

nor  nature  that  framed  thee,  can  ever  counter-  40 
faite  thee  to  be  me,  ribauld  villaine  and  lying 
wretch  that  thou  arte  ! 

Dalio.  Shall  I  suffer  a  knave  to  abuse    a  pleasant 
my  maisters  father  thus  ?  hence,  villaine,    suppose. 
hence!  or  I  will  sheath  this  good  fawchion  in  45 
your  paunch  !   if  my  maister  Erostrato  find  you 
prating   here   on   this    fashion   to   his   father,  I 
wold  not  be  in  your  coate  for  mo  conney  skins 
than  I  gat  these  twelve  monethes.    Come  you 
in  againe,  sir,  and  let  this  curre  barke  here  till  50 
he  burst.       Dalio  pullet h  the  Scenese  in  at  the  dores. 

SCENA    Vi. 

PhiloganOy  Litio,  Ferarese. 

^Phllogano.~\    Litio,  how  likest  thou  this  geere  ? 

Litio.  Sir,  I  like  it  as  evill  as  may  be  :  but 
have  you  not  often  heard  tell  of  the  falsehood  of 
Ferara  ?  and  now  may  you  see,  it  falleth  out 
accordingly.  5 

Ferarese,  Friend,  you  do  not  well  to  slaunder 
the  citie ;  these  men  are  no  Ferrareses  :  you  may 
know  by  their  tong. 

Li.  Well,  there  is  never  a  barrell  better  her- 
ring beetwene  you  both  :   but  in  deed  your  of-  10 
ficers  are  most  to  blame  that  suffer  such  faultes 
to  escape  unpunished. 


Scene  VI.]  ^U}jpO0^0  73 

Fer.  What  knowe  the  officers  of  this  ?  thinke 
you  they  know  of  every  fault  ? 

Li.  Nay,  I  thinke  they  will  knowe  as  little  as  15 
may  bee,  specially  when  they  have  no  gaines  by 
it ;   but  they  ought  to  have  their  eares  as   open 
to  heare  of  such  offences  as  the  in-gates  be  to 
receive  guests. 

Phi.   Holde  thy  peace,  foole  !  20 

Li.  By  the  masse  !  I  am  afearde  that  we  shall 
be  proved  fooles  both  two. 

Phi,  Well,  what  shall  we  doe  ? 

Li.  I  would  thinke  best  we  should  go  seeke 
Erostrato  him  selfe.  25 

Fer.  I  will  waite  upon  you  willingly,  and 
either  at  the  schooles  or  at  the  convocations  we 
shall  find  him. 

Phi.   By  our  Lady  !   I  am  wery  :   I  will   run 
no  longer  about  to  seke  him  5  I  am  sure  hither  30 
he  will  come  at  the  last. 

Li.  Sure,   my    mind   gives   me   that   we    a  true 
shall  find  a  new  Erostrato,  ere  it  be  long,    suppose. 

Fer.  Looke  where  he  is  !  whether  runnes  he  ? 
stay  you  awhile;  I  will  goe  tell  him  that  you  are  35 
here.    Erostrato  !   Erostrato  !    ho,   Erostrato  !   I 
would  speake  with  you. 

Erostrato  is  espied  uppon  the  stage  running 
about. 


74  ^uppo0e0  [Act  nn. 


ScENA  vii. 

Faintd ErostratOy  FeraresCy  PhiloganOy  Litio. 
\Later\  Dalio. 

l^Erostrato^  aside."^  Nowe  can  I  bide  me  no 
longer.  Alas  !  what  shall  I  doe  ?  I  will  set  a  good 
face  on,  to  beare  out  the  matter. 

Ferarese.  O  Erostrato,  Philogano  your  father 
is  come  out  of  Sicilia.  5 

Ero.  Tell  me  that  I  knowe  not  j  I  have  bene 
with  him  and  scene  him  alredy. 

Per.  Is  it  possible  ?  and  it  seemeth  by  him 
that  you  know  not  of  his  comming. 

Ero.  Why,  have  you  spoken  with  him  ?   when   10 
saw  you  him,  I  pray  you  ? 

Fer.  Loke  you  where  he  standes  ;  why  go 
you  not  too  him  ?  Looke  you,  Philogano,  be- 
holde  your  deare  son  Erostrato. 

Philogano.   Erostrato  ?  thys  is  not  Erostrato  :   15 
thys  seemeth  rather  to  beDulipo,and  it  is  Dul- 
ipo  in  deede. 

Litio.   Why,  doubte  you  of  that  ? 

Ero.  What  saith  this  honest  man  ? 

Phi.  Mary,  sir,  in  deede  you  are  so  honorably  20 
cladde,  it  is  no  marvell  if  you  loke  bigge. 

Ero.  To  whome  speaketh  he  ? 

Phi.  What,  God  helpe  !  do  you  not  know  me  ? 


Scene  VII.]  ©UppO^efif  75 

Ero.  As  farre  as  I  remember,  sir,  I  never 
sawe  you  before.  25 

Phi.  Harke,  Litio,  here  is  good  geere  !  this 
honest  man  will  not  know  me.  ^  shame- 

Ero.   Gentleman,  you  take  your  markes   lesse  sup- 
amisse.  P°^^- 

Li.   Did  I  not  tell  you  of  the  falsehood  of  30 
Ferrara,  master  ?    Dulipo  hath  learned  to  play 
the    knave    indifferently    well    since    he    came 
hither. 

Phi.   Peace,  I  say. 

Ero.  Friend,  my  name  is  not  Dulipo,  aske  35 
you  thorough  out  this  towne  of  great  and  small, 
they  know  me  :   aske  this  honest  man  that  is 
with  you,  if  you  wyll  not  beleeve  me. 

Per.  In  deede,  I  never  knewe  him  otherwise 
called  than  Erostrato ;  and  so  they  call  him,  as  40 
many  as  knowe  him. 

Li.  Master,  nowe  you  may  see  the  falsehood 
of  these  fellowes  ;  this  honest  man,  your  hoste, 
is  of  counsaile  with  him,  and  would  face    a  neediesse 
us  down  that  it  is  Erostrato  :  beware  of   suppose. 
these  mates. 

Per.  Friende,  thou  doest  me  wrong  to  sus- 
pect me,  for  sure  I  never  hearde  hym  otherwise 
called  than  Erostrato. 

Ero.   What  name  could  you  heare  me  called   50 
by,  but   by    my   right   name  }    But    I    am   wise 


76  ^UppO0efll  [Act  im. 

enough  to  stand  prating  here  with  this  old  man  ; 
I  thinke  he  be  mad. 

Phi.  Ah,   runnagate!     ah,    villaine  traitour ! 
doest  thou  use  thy  master  thus  ?  what  hast  thou  55 
done  with  my  son,  villain  ? 

\_Dalio  and  other  servants  come  out  of  Erostrato*  s 
house y  threatening  Philogano  with  stones y  ^r.] 

Dalio.  Doth  this  dogge  barke  here  still  ?  and 
will  you  suffer  him,  master,  thus  to  revile 
you  ? 

Ero.   Come  in,  come  in ;  what  wilt  thou  do  60 
with  this  pestil  ? 

Da.  I  will  rap  the  olde  cackabed  on  the 
costerd. 

Ero.  Away  with  it  !  and  you,  sirra,  lay  downe 
these  stones  !   come  in  at  dore  every  one  of  you,  65 
beare  with  him  for  his  age  j  I  passe  not  of  his 
evill  wordes. 

Erostrato  taketh  all  his  servantes  in  at  the  dores. 

ScENA  viii. 

Philogano,  Ferarese,  Litio. 

\_PhiIogano.']  Alas,  who  shall  relieve  my  miser- 
able estate  ?  to  whome  shall  I  complaine,  since 
he  whome  I  brought  up  of  a  childe,  yea,  and 
cherished  him  as  if  he  had  bene  mine  owne, 
doth  nowe  utterly  denie    to    knowe  me  ?    and     5 


Scene  Vm.]  ^UppOSf00  77 

you,  whome  I  toke  for  an  honest  man,  and  he 
that  should  have  broughte  me  to  the  sighte  of 
my  Sonne,  are  compacte  with  this  false  wretch, 
and    woulde    face  me    downe  that  he    is    An  other 
Erostrato !    Alas  !    you   might  have   some     suppose. 
compassion  of  mine  age,  to  the  miserie  I  am 
now  in,  and  that  I  am  a  stranger  desolate  of 
all  comforte  in  this  countrey  :   or,  at  the  least, 
you  shoulde  have  feared  the  vengeaunce  of  God 
the  supreme  judge  (whiche  knoweth  the  secrets  15 
of  all  harts),  in   bearing  this  false  witnesse  with 
him,  whome  heaven  and  earth  doe  knowe  to  be 
Dulipo  and  not  Erostrato. 

Litio.  If  there  be  many  such  witnesses  in  this 
countrey,  men  may  go  about  to  prove  what  they  20 
wil  in  controversies  here. 

Ferrarese.  Well,  sir,  you  may  judge  of  me  as 
it  pleaseth  you  :  and  how  the  matter  commeth 
to  passe  I  know  not ;  but  truly,  ever  since  he 
came  first  hither,  I  have  knowen  him  by  the  25 
name  of  Erostrato  the  sonne  of  Philogano,  a 
Cathanese  :  nowe  whether  he  be  so  in  deede,  or 
whether  he  be  Dulipo  (as  you  alledge)  let  that 
be  proved  by  them  that  knewe  him  before  he 
came  hether.  But  I  protest  before  God,  that  3° 
whiche  I  have  said  is  neither  a  matter  compact 
with  him  nor  any  other,  but  even  as  I  have  hard 
him  called  and  reputed  of  al  men. 


7  8  ^uppo0f0  [AcTim. 

Phi»  Out   and   alas  !  he   whom  I   sent  a  shrewde 
hither  with  my  son   to   be  his    servaunt,  suppose. 
and  to  give  attendance  on  him,  hath  eyther  cut 
his  throate,  or  by  some  evill  meanes  made  him 
away,  and  hath  not  onely  taken  his  garmentes, 
his    bookes,   his   money,   and    that   whiche    he 
brought  out  of  Sicilia  with  him,  but  usurpeth  40 
his  name  also,  and  turneth  to  his  owne  com- 
moditie  the  bills  of  exchaunge  that   I  have  al- 
wayes  allowed    for  my  sonnes  expences.     Oh 
miserable    Philogano !    oh    unhappie  old   man  ! 
Oh  eternall  God  !   is  there  no  judge,  no  officer,  45 
no  higher  powers  whom  I  may  complaine  unto 
for  redresse  of  these  wrongs  ? 

Per.  Yes,  sir,  we  have  potestates,  we  have 
judges,  and,  above   al,  we    have-  a  most  juste 
prince:   doubt  you  not  but  you  shall  have  jus-  50 
tice,  if  your  cause  be  just. 

Phi.   Bring   me   then   to  the  judges,  to   the 
potestates,  or  to  whome  you  thinke  best :   for  I 
will  disclose  a  packe  of  the  greatest  knaverie, 
a  fardell  of  the  fowlest  falsehoode,  that  ever  was  55 
heard  of. 

Li.  Sir,  he  that  wil  goe  to  the  lawe  must  be 
sure  of  foure  things  :  first,  a  right  and  a  just 
cause ;    then   a   righteous   advocate   to    pleade  j 

57  laive.     Qi,  civill  lawe. 
59  ad-vocate.      Qi,  doctor. 


Scene  Vm.]  ^lip}JO0e0  79 

nexte,   favour   coram  judice;    and,  above   all,   a  60 
good  purse  to  procure  it. 

Fer.  I  have  not  heard  that  the  law  hath  any 
respect  to  favour  :  what  you  meane  by  it  I  can- 
not tell. 

Phi.   Have  you  no  regard   to  his  wordes  :   he  65 
is  but  a  foole. 

Fer.  I  pray  you,  sir,  let  him  tell  me  what  is 
favour. 

Li.  Favour  cal  I,  to  have  a  friend  neere  about 
the  judge,  who  may  so  sollicite  thy  cause  as,  if  70 
it  be  right,  speedie  sentence  may  ensue  without 
any  delayes  :  if  it  be  not  good,  then  to  prolong  it 
till  at  the  last  thine  adversarie,  being  wearie, 
shal  be  glad  to  compound  with  thee. 

Fer.  Of  thus  much  (although  I  never  heard  75 
thus  muche  in  this  countrey  before)  doubt  you 
not,  Philogano  ;   I  will  bring  you  to  an  advocate 
that  shall  speede  you  accordingly. 

Phi.  Then  shall  I  give  my  selfe,  as  it  were, 
a  pray  to  the  lawyers,  whose  insatiable  jawes  I  80 
am  not  able  to  feede,  although  I  had  here  all  the 
goods  and  landes  which  I  possesse  in  mine  own 
countrey,  much  lesse  being  a  straunger  in  this 
miserie.  I  know  their  cautels  of  old  :  at  the  first 
time  I  come  they  wil  so  extoU  my  cause,  as  85 
though  it  were  already  won  ;  but  within  a  seven- 
night  or  ten  dales,  if  I  do  not  continually  feede 


80  &UPJpO0e0  [Act  nil. 

them,  as  the  crow  doth  hir  brattes,  twentie  times 
in  an  houre,  they  will  begin  to  waxe  colde,  and 
to  finde  cavils  in  my  cause,  saying  that  at  the  90 
firste  I  did  not  well  instructe  them  ;  till  at  the  last 
they  will  not  onely  drawe  the  stuffing  out  of  my 
purse,  but  the  marrow  out  of  my  bones. 

Fer.  Yea,  sir,  but  this  man  that  I  tell  you  of 
is  halfe  a  saincte.  95 

Li.  And  the  other  halfe  a  devill,  I  hold  a 
pennie. 

Phi,  Well  sayd,  Litio  !  in  deede  I  have  but 
smal  confidence  in  their  smothe  lookes. 

Fer,  Well,  sir,  I  thinke  this  whome  I  meane 
is  no  such   manner  of  man ;  but   if  he   were, 
there  is  such  hatred  and  evil  wil  betweene    An  other 
him  and  this  gentleman  (whether   he  be     suppose. 
Erostrato  or  Dulipo,  what  so  ever  he  be),  that 
I  warrant  you,  he  will  doe  whatsoever  he  can  105 
do  for  you,  were  it  but  to  spite  him. 

Phi,  Why  \  what  hatred  is  betwixt  them  ? 

Fer,  They  are  both  in  love  and  suters  to  one 
gentlewoman,  the  daughter  of  a  welthie  man  in 
this  citie.  no 

Phi.  Why,  is  the  villeine  become  of  such  es- 
timation that  he  dare  persume  to  be  a  suter  to 
any  gentlewoman  of  a  good  familie  ? 

Fer.  Yea,  sir,  out  of  all  doubt. 

Phi.   How  call  you  his  adversarie  ?  115 


I 


Scene  VIII.]  ^UppOSt^  8 1 

Fer.   Cleander,  one  of  the  excellentest  doctors 
in  our  citie. 

Phi.  For  Gods  love,  let  us  goe  to  him. 
Fer,  Goe  we  then. 


Finis  Actus  4. 


Actus  v.    Scena  i. 

Fayned  Erostrato. 

\_Erostrato.~\  What  a  mishappe  was  this  !  that 
before  I  could  meete  with  Erostrato,  I  have 
light  even  ful  in  the  lap  of  Philogano,  where  I 
was  constrained  to  denie  my  name,  to  denie  my 
master,  and  to  faine  that  I  knew  him  not,  to 
contend  with  him,  and  to  revile  him  in  such  sort 
that,  hap  what  hap  can,  I  can  never  hap  well  in 
favour  with  him  againe  !  Therefore,  if  I  coulde 
come  to  speake  with  the  right  Erostrato,  I  will 
renounce  unto  him  both  habite  and  credite,  and 
away  as  fast  as  I  can  trudge  into  some  strange 
countrey,  where  I  may  never  see  Philogano 
againe.  Alas,  he  that  of  a  litle  childe  hath 
brought  me  up  unto  this  day,  and  nourished  me 
as  if  I  had  bene  his  owne  :  and  in  deede  An  other 
(to  confesse  the  trouth)  I  have  no  father  suppose 
to  trust  unto  but  him.  But  looke  where  Pasi- 
philo  commeth,  the  fittest  man  in  the  world  to 
goe  on  my  message  to  Erostrato. 

Erostrato  espieth  Pasiphilo  camming  towards 
him. 

Fayned  Erostrato.    Q3,  Erostrato  fained. 


Scene  n.]  ^UppOS^S  83 

Scene  ii. 

Pasiphiloy  Erostrato. 

\_Pasiphilo.']  Two  good  newes  have  I  heard  to 
day  alreadie  :  one  that  Erostrato  prepared  a  great 
feast  this  night ;  the  other,  that  he  seeketh  for 
me.  And  I,  to  ease  him  of  his  travaile,  least  he 
shoulde  runne  up  and  downe  seeking  me,  and  5 
bicause  no  man  loveth  better  than  I  to  have  an 
erand  where  good  cheere  is,  come  in  post  hast 
even  home  to  his  owne  house  :  and  loke  where 
he  is  ! 

Erostrato.   Pasiphilo,  thou  muste  doe  one  thing   10 
for  me  if  thou  love  me. 

Pa.   If  I  love  you  not,  who  loves  you  ?  com- 
maunde  me. 

Ero.   Go  then  a  litle  there  to  Damons  house, 
aske  for  Dulipo,  and  tell  him —  15 

Pa.  Wot  you  what  ?    I   cannot  speake  with 
him  :   he  is  in  prison. 

Ero.   In  prison  ?  how  commeth  that  to  passe  ? 
where  is  he  in  prison  ? 

Pa.   In  a  vile  dungeon  there  within  his  mas-  20 
ters  house. 

Ero.   Canst  thou  tell  wherefore  ? 

Pa.   Be  you  content  to  know  he  is  in  prison: 
I  have  told  you  to  muche. 

IS  —   Qq,  (•) 


84  ^UppOfifeSf  [Act  V. 

Ero.  If  ever  you  will  doe  any  thing  for  me,  25 
tell  me. 

Pa.  I  pray  you,  desire  me  not ;  what  were 
you  the  better  if  you  knew  ? 

Ero.  More  than  thou  thinkest,  Pasiphilo,  by 
God !  30 

Pa.  Well,  and  yet  it  standes  me  upon  more 
than  you  thinke  to  keepe  it  secrete. 

Ero.  Why,  Pasiphilo,  is  this  the  trust  I  have 
had  in  you  ?  are  these  the  faire  promises  you 
have  alwayes  made  me  ?  35 

Pa.  By  the  masse,  I  woulde  I  had  fasted  this 
night  with  Maister  Doctor  rather  than  have 
come  hither. 

Ero.   Wei,  Pasiphilo,  eyther  tel  me,  or  at  few 
woordes  never  thinke  to  be  welcome  to  this  house  40 
from  hence  forthe. 

Pa.  Nay,  yet  I  had  rather  leese  all  the  gen- 
tlemen in  this  towne.  But  if  I  tell  you  any 
thing  that  displease  you,  blame  no  body  but  your 
selfe  now.  45 

Ero.  There  is  nothing  can  greve  me  more 
than  Dulipoes  mishappe  :  no,  not  mine  owne ; 
and  therfore  I  am  sure  thou  canst  tell  me  no 
worsse  tidings. 

Pa.   Well,  since  you  would  needes  have    ^"°'^^!ij 
it,  1  wil  tel  you  ;  he  was  taken  abed  with   homely 
your  beloved  Polynesta.  suppose 


Scene  m]  g)UppOS^e0  85 

Ero,  Alas  !  and  doth  Damon  knowe  it  ? 

Pa.  An  olde  trotte  in  the  house  disclosed  it 
to  him,  wherupon  he  tooke  bothe  Dulipo  and  55 
the  Nurse  which  hath  bene  the  broker  of  all  this 
bargayne,  and  clapte  them  bothe  in  a  cage, 
where  I  thinke  they  shall  have  so[wr]e  soppes 
too  their  sweete  meates. 

Ero.   Pasiphilo,  go  thy  wayes  into  the  kitchin,  60 
commaund  the   cooke  to  boyle  and   roast  what 
liketh  thee  best :  I  make  thee  supra  visour  of  this 
supper. 

Pa.  By  the  masse,  if  you  should  have  studied 
this  sevennight,  you  could  not  have  appointed  65 
me  an  office  to  please  me  better.    You  shall  see 
what  dishes  I  will  devise. 

Pasiphilo  goeth  in^  Erostrato  tarieth. 

ScENA  iii. 

Fanned  Erostrato  alone. 

\Erostrato.'\  I  was  glad  to  rid  him  out  of  the 
way,  least  he  shoulde  see  me  burst  out  of  these 
swelling  teares,  which  hitherto  with  great  payne 
I  have  prisoned  in  my  brest,  and  least  he  shoulde 
heare  the  eccho  of  my  doubled  sighes,  whiche  s 
bounce  from  the  botome  of  my  hevy  heart. 
O   cursed   I  !    O  cruell   fortune  !   that  so   many 

58   soivre^  Qi.   Q2,  sorowe.    Q3,  sorow.         zof.    Qi  omits. 


86  g)UppO0eSl  [Act  V. 

dispersed  griefes  as  were  sufficient  to  subvert  a 
legion  of  lovers,  hast  sodenly  assembled  within 
my  care  full  carkase  to  freat  this  fearfull  heart  in  lo 
sunder  with  desperation  !  thou  that  hast  kepte 
my  master  all  his  youthe  within  the  realme  of 
Siciha,  reserving  the  wind  and  waves  in  a  tem- 
perate calme  (as  it  were  at  his  commaunde) 
nowe  to  convey  his  aged  limmes  hither,  neither  15 
sooner  nor  later,  but  even  in  the  worst  time 
may  be  —  if  at  any  time  before  thou  haddest 
conducted  him,  this  enterprise  had  bene  cut  ofF 
without  care  in  the  beginning;  and  if  never  so 
little  longer  thou  hadst  lingered  his  jorney,  this  20 
happie  day  might  then  have  fully  finished  our 
drifts  and  devises.  But  alas,  thou  hast  brought 
him  even  in  the  very  worst  time  to  plunge  us  al 
in  the  pit  of  perdition.  [Neither  art  thou  content 
to  entangle  me  alone  in  thy  ruinous  ropes ;  but  25 
thou  must  also  catch  the  right  Erostrato  in  thy 
crooked  clawes,  to  reward  us  both  with  open 
shame  and  rebujcej  Two  yeeres  hast  thou  kept 
secrete  our  subtilTsupposes,  even  this  day  to  dis- 
cipher  them  with  a  sorowfull  successe.  What  30 
shall  I  do  ?  Alas,  what  shift  shall  I  make  ?  It 
is  too  late  now  to  imagine  any  further  deceite, 
for  every  minute  seemeth  an  houre,  til  I  find 
some  succour  for  the  miserable  captive  Ero- 
strato.   Wei,  since  there  is  no  other  remedie,  I   35 


Scene  IIII.]  ^UppO^t^  87 

wil  go  to  my  master  Philogano,  and  to  him  will 
I  tell  the  whole  truth  of  the  matter,  that  at  the 
least  he  may  provide  in  time,  before  his  sonne 
feele  the  smart  of  some  sharpe  revenge  and  pun- 
ishment. This  is  the  best,  and  thus  wil  I  do.  40 
Yet  I  know  that  for  mine  owne  parte  I  shal  do 
bitter  penance  for  my  faults  forepassed ;  but 
suche  is  the  good  will  and  duetie  that  I  beare  to 
Erostrato,  as  even  with  the  losse  of  my  life  I 
must  not  sticke  to  adventure  any  thing  which  45 
may  turne  to  his  commoditie.  But  what  shall  I 
do  ?  shal  I  go  seeke  my  master  about  the  towne, 
or  shall  I  tarrie  his  returne  hither  ?  If  I  meete 
him  in  the  streetes  he  wil  crie  out  upon  me,  nei- 
ther will  he  harken  to  any  thing  that  I  shall  say,  50 
till  he  have  gathered  all  the  people  wondring 
about  me,  as  it  were  at  an  owle.  Therefore  I 
were  better  to  abide  here,  and  yet  if  he  tarrie 
long  I  will  goe  seeke  him,  rather  than  prolong 
the  time  to  Erostratos  perill.  ^. 

Pasiphilo  returneth  to  Erostrato. 

ScENA  iiii. 

Pasiphilo^  Fanned  Erostrato. 

\Pastphilo,,  coming  out   of  Erostrato* s    house    and 
speaking  to  Dalio  within.']    Yea,  dresse  them,  but 

36  master.    Q3,  M. 


88  ^UppOfife0  [Act  V. 

lay  them  not  to  the  fire,  till  they  will  be  ready 
to  sit  downe.  This  geere  goeth  in  order  ;  but  if 
I  had  not  gone  in,  there  had  fallen  a  foule 
faulte.  5 

Erostrato.  And  what  fault,  I  pray  thee  ? 

Pa.   Marie,  Dalio  would  have  layd  the  shoul- 
der of  mutton  and  the  capon  bothe  to  the  fire 
at  once  like  a  foole ;  he  did  not  consider  that 
the  one  woulde  have   more   roasting  than  the   lo 
other. 

Ero.  Alas,  I  would  this    were    the    greatest 
fault. 

Pa,  Why  ?  and  either  the  one  should  have 
bene  burned  before  the  other  had  bene  roasted,  15 
or  else  he  muste    have   drawne   them    ofF  the 
spitte ;  and  they  would  have  bene  served  to  the 
boorde  either  colde  or  rawe. 

Ero.  Thou  hast  reason,  Pasiphilo. 

Pa.  Now,  sir,  if  it  please  you,  I  will  goe  into  20 
the  towne  and  buye  oranges,  olives,  and  caphers, 
for  without  suche  sauce  the  supper  were  more 
than  halfe  lost. 

Ero.  There    are  within   already,  doubt    Erostrato 
you  not :    there   shal    lacke   nothing    that    exit, 
is  necessarie. 

Pa.   Since  I  told  him  these  newes  of  Dulipo, 
he  is  cleane  beside  himself:   he  hath  so  many 

Erostrato  exit.    This  side-note  is  in  Qi. 


Scene  v.]  g)UppO0eS?  89 

hammers  in  his  head,  that  his  braynes  are  ready 
to  burst :   and  let  them  breake,  so  I  may    a  knavishe 
suppe  with   him   to  night,  what  care   I  ?    suppose. 
But    is    not    this   Dominus   noster   Cleandrus  that 
commeth  before  ?    Well  sayde  :  by  my  truth  we 
will  teache  Maister  Doctor  to  weare  a  cornerd 
cappe  of  a  new  fashion.    By  God,  Polynesia  shal   35 
be  his,  he  shall  have  hir  out  of  doubt,  for  I  have 
tolde  Erostrato  such  newes  of  hir  that  he  will 
none  of  hir. 

Clea?ider  and  Philogano  come  //?,  talking  of 
the  matter  in  controversie. 

SCENA     V. 

CleandeVy  Philogano^  Litio,  Pasiphilo. 

\J2leander^  Yea,  but  howe  will  ye  prove  that 
he  is  not  Erostrato,  having  such  presumptions 
to  the  contrarie  ?  or  how  shall  it  be  thought 
that  you  are  Philogano,  when  an  other  taketh 
upon  him  this  same  name,  and  for  proofe  bring-  5 
eth  him  for  a  witnesse,  which  hath  bene  ever 
reputed  here  for  Erostrato  ? 

Philogano.   I  will  tel  you,  sir.   Let  me  be  kept 
here   fast  in  prison,  and  at  my  charges  let  there 
be   some   man   sent   into   Sicilia,  that  may  bring   10 
hither  with  him  two   or  three  of  the   honestest 
men  in  Cathanea,  and  by  them  let  it  be  proved 


90  g)UPPOS?eSi  [Act  V. 

if  I  or  this  other  be  Philogano,  and  whether  he 
be  Erostrato  or  Dulipo  my  servant  :  and  if  you 
finde  me  contrarie,  let  me  suffer  death  for  it.        15 

Pasiphilo.   I  will  go  salute  Master  Doctour. 

Cle.  It  will  aske  great  labour  and  great  ex- 
pences  to  prove  it  this  way,  but  it  is  the  best 
remedie  that  I  can  see. 

Pa.   God  save  you,  sir.  20 

Cle.  And  reward  you  as  you  have  deserved. 

Pa.  Then  shall  he  give  me  your  favour 
continually. 

Cle.  He  shall  give  you  a  halter,  knave  and 
villein  that  thou  arte.  25 

Pa.  I  knowe  I  am  a  knave,  but  no  villein. 
I  am  your  servaunt. 

Cle.  I  neither  take  thee  for  my  servant,  nor 
for  my  friend. 

Pa.  Why  ?  wherein  have  I  offended  you,  sir?  30 

Cle.   Hence  to  the  gallowes,  knave. 

Pa.  What !  softe  and  faire,  sir,  I  pray  you. 
/,  prcesequar:  you  are  mine  elder. 

Cle.  I  will  be  even  with  you,  be  you  sure, 
honest  man.  35 

Pa.  Why,  sir  ?   I  never  offended  you. 

Cle.  Well,  I  will  teach  you.  Out  of  my 
sight,  knave  ! 

Pa.  What?  I  am  no  dogge,  I  would  you 
wist !  40 


45 


Scene  v.]  §)UPJPO0eSf  9 1 

Cle.  Pratest  thou  yet,  villein  ?  I  will  make 
thee  — 

Pa.  What  will  you  make  me  ?  I  see  wel  the 
more  a  man  doth  suffer  you,  the  worsse  you 
are. 

Cle.  Ah,  villein  !  if  it  were  not  for  this  gen- 
tleman, I  wold  tell  you  what  I  — 

Pa.  Villein  ?  nay,  I  am  as  honest  a  man  as 
you. 

Cle.  Thou  liest  in  thy  throate,  knave.  50 

Phi.   O  sir,  stay  your  wisedome. 

Pa.  What,  will  you  fight  ?  marie,  come 
on. 

Cle.  Well,  knave,  I  will  meete  with  you 
another  time ;  goe  your  way.  55 

Pa.  Even  when  you  list,  sir,  I  will  be  your 
man. 

Cle.  And  if  I  be  not  even  with  thee,  call  me 
cut. 

Pa.   Nay,  by  the  masse,  all   is   one,  I   care  60 
not,  for  I  have  nothing :    if  I  had  either  landes 
or  goods,  peradventure  you  would  pull  me  into 
the  la  we.  \_Exit  Pasiphilo.'] 

Phi.   Sir,  I  perceive  your  pacience  is  moved. 

Cle.  This    villaine !  —  but    let    him    goe;     I   65 
will   see    him    punished    as    he    hath   deserved. 
Now  to  the  matter  —  how  said  you  ? 

42  — •  Qq,  (•)  47  —  Qq,  (•) 


92  ^UppO0e0  [ActV. 


Phi.  This  fellow  hath  disquieted  you,    Lawyers 
sir :   peradventure  you  would  be  loth  to    ^^^  "^^^'" 
be  troubled  any  further  ?  to  get 

Cle.  Not  a  whit :  say  on,  and  let  him    money. 
go  with  a  vengeance. 

Phi.   I  say,  let  them  send  at  my  charge  to 
Cathanea. 

Cle.  Yea,  I  remember  that  wel,  and  it  is  the  75 
surest  way  as  this  case  requireth.     But  tel  me, 
how  is  he  your  servant  ?   and  how  come  you  by 
him?    Enforme  me  fully  in  the  matter. 

Phi.  I  will  tell  you,  sir.     When  the  Turkes 
won  Otranto —  80 

Cle.  Oh,  you  put  me  in  remembrance  of  my 
mishappes  ! 

Phi.   How,  sir? 

Cle.  For  I  was  driven  among  the  rest  out  of 
the  towne  (it  is  my  native  countrey),  and  there  85 
I  lost  more  than  ever  I    shall   recover   againe 
while  I  live. 

Phi.  Alas,  a  pitifuU  case,  by  S.  Anne  ! 

Cle.  Well,  proceede. 

Phi.  At  that  time  (as  I  saide)  there  were  cer-  90 
taine  of  our  countrey  that  scoured  those  costes 
upon  the  seas  with  a  good  barke,  well  appointed 
for  the  purpose,  and  had  espiall  of  a  Turkey 
vessell  that  came  laden  from  thence  with  great 
aboundance  of  riches.  95 

88  5.    Qi,  Saint. 


Scene  V]  g)UPpO0e0  93 

Cle.  And  peradventure  most  of  mine,      a  gentle 

Phi.  So  they  boarded  them,  and  in  the      suppose. 
end  overcame  them,  and   brought  the  goods  to 
Palermo,  from  whence  they  came,  and  amongst 
other  things  that  they  had  was  this  villeine  myioo 
servaunt,  a  boy  at  that  time,  I  thinke  not  past 
five  yeeres  olde. 

Cle.   Alas,  I  lost  one  of  that  same  age  there. 

Phi.  And  I  beyng  there,  and  liking  the  childes 
favour  well,  proffered  them   foure  and   twentieios 
ducates  for  him,  and  had  him. 

Cle.  What  ?   was  the  childe  a  Turke  ?  or  had 
the  Turkes  brought  him  from  Otranto  ? 

Phi.  They  saide  he  was  a  childe  of  Otranto, 
but  what  is  that  to  the  matter?  once  xxiiii  du-iio 
cattes  he  cost  me ;  that  I  wot  well. 

Cle.  Alas,   I    speake   it   not  for  that,  sir.    I 
woulde  it  were  he  whome  I  meane. 

Phi.   Why,  whom  meane  you,  sir  ?  A  crafty 

Li.   Beware,  sir ;   be  not  to  lavish.  suppose. 

Cle.  Was  his  name   Dulipo  then  ?  or  had  he 
not  another  name  ? 

Li.   Beware  what  you  say,  sir. 

Phi.   What  the  devill  hast  thou  to  doe  ?    Du- 
lipo ?    No,  sir;   his  name  was  Carino.  120 

Li.   Yea,  well  said.    Tell  all,  and   more  to, 
doe. 

Cle.  O  Lord,  if  it  be  as  I  thinke,  how  happie 


94  g>uppO0rS  [Actv. 

were   I  ?  and  why  did  you  change   his    name, 
then  ?  125 

Phi.  We  called  him  Dulipo,  bycause  when 
he  cryed,  as  children  doe  sometimes,  he  woulde 
alwayes  cry  on  that  name  Dulipo. 

Cle.  Well  then,  I  see  well  it  is  my  owne 
onely  childe,  whome  I  loste  when  I  loste  my  130 
countrie.  He  was  named  Carino  after  his  grand- 
father ;  and  this  Dulipo,  whome  he  alwayes  re- 
membred  in  his  lamenting,  was  his  foster  father, 
that  nourished  him  and  brought  him  up. 

Li,   Sir,  have  I  not  told  you  enough  of  the  135 
falshood  of  Ferara  ?    This  gentleman  will  not 
only  picke  your  purse,  but   beguile  you  of  your 
servaunt  also,  and  make  you  beleve  he  is  his  son. 

Cle.  Well,  goodfellow,  I  have  not  used  to  lie. 

Li.  Sir,  no  ;  but  every  thing  hath  a  begin- 140 
ning. 

Cle.  Fie,  Philogano  !  have  you  not  the  least 
suspecte  that  may  be  of  me. 

Li.  No,  marie  ;  but  it  were  good  he  had  the 
most  suspecte  that  may  be.  145 

Cle.  Well,  hold  thou  thy  peace  a  litle,  good 
f  [e]llow.  I  pray  you  tell  me,  Philogano,  had 
the  child  any  remembrance  of  his  fathers  name, 
his  mothers  name,  or  the  name  of  his  familie  } 

129  it  is  my,    Q3,  he  is  mine. 
134  nourished  him.    Q3  omits  him, 
147  felloiv.    Q2,  follow. 


Scene  v.]  ^UPPOfife0  95 

Phi.    He  did  remember  them,  and  could  name  150 
his  mother  also  ;   but  sure  I  have  forgotten  the 
name. 

Li.   I  remember  it  well  enough. 

Phi.   Tell  it  then. 

Li.   Nay,  that   I   will   not,  marie ;  you  have  155 
tolde  him  too  much  al  ready. 

Phi.   Tell  it,  I  say,  if  thou  can. 

Li.   Can  ?    yes,    by    the    masse,    I    can    wel 
enough  ;    but   I   wil   have   my  tong    pulled   out 
rather  than   tell  it,  unlesse  he  tell  it  first.    Doe  160 
you  not  perceive,  sir,  what  he  goeth  about  ? 

Cle.  Well,  I  will  tell  you  then.  My  name 
you  know  already  ;  my  wife,  his  mother's  name, 
was  Sophronia  5  the  house  that  I  came  of  they 
call  Spiagia.  165 

Li.  I  never  heard  him  speake  of  Spiagia, 
but  in  deede  I  have  heard  him  say  his  mothers 
name  was  Sophronia.  But  what  of  that  ?  a 
great  matter,  I  promise  you  !  It  is  like  enoughe 
that  you  two  have  compact  together  to  deceive  170 
my  maister. 

Cle.  What  nedeth  me  more  evident  tokens  ? 
This  is  my  sonne,  out   of  doubt,  whom   I   lost 
eighteen  yeares  since  ;   and  a  thousand  thousand 
times  have  I  lamented  for  him.    He  shuld  have  175 
also  a  mould  on  his  left  shoulder. 

Li.   He  hath  a  moulde  there  in  deede  ;  and 


96  ^UppOSfeflJ  [Act  V. 

an  hole  in  an  other  place  to.    I  would  your  nose 
were  in  it. 

Cle.  Faire  wordes,  fellow  Litio  !    Oh,  I  pray  i8o 
you,  let    us   goe   talke  with    him.     O   fortune, 
howe  much  am  I  bounde  to  thee,  if  I  finde  my 
Sonne ! 

Phi.  Yea,  how  little  am  I  beholden  to  for- 
tune, that  know  not  where  my  sonne  is  become ;  185 
and  you,  whome  I  chose  to  be  mine  advocate, 
will  nowe  (by  the  meanes  of  this   Dulipo)  be- 
come mine  adversarie  ! 

Cle.  Sir,  let  us  first  goe  find  mine ;  and  a  right 
I  warrant  you  yours  will  be  founde  also,  suppose. 
ere  it  be  long. 

Phi.   God  graunt !    Goe  we,  then. 

Cle.  Since  the  dore  is  open,  I  will  [neither] 
knocke  nor  cal,  but  we  will  be  bolde  to  goe  in. 

Li.  Sir,  take  you  heede,  least  he  leade  you  to  195 
some  mischiefe. 

Phi.  Alas,  Litio,  if  my  sonne  be  loste  what 
care  I  what  become  of  me  ? 

Li.   Well,  I  have   tolde  you  my  minde,  sir  ; 
doe  you  as  you  please.  200 

Exeunt.    Damon  and  Psiteria  come  in. 

193   Since.    Q3,  Sith.         neither^  Qi.    Q2,  Q3,  never. 


Scene  VI.]  g)UppOS^e0  97 

SCENA    SEXTA. 
Damoriy  Psiteria. 

\_Damon.'^  Come  hither,  you  olde  kallat,  you 
tatling  huswife,  that  the  devill  cut  oute  your 
tong !  tell  me,  howe  could  Pasiphilo  know  of 
this  geere  but  by  you  ? 

Psiteria.   Sir,  he   never  knewe  it  of  me  j   he     5 
was  the  firste  that  tolde  me  of  it. 

Da.  Thou  liest,  old  drabbe ;  but  I  would  ad- 
vise you  tel  me  the  truth,  or  I  wil  make  those 
old  bones  rattle  in  your  skin. 

Ps.  Sir,  if  you  finde  me  contrarie,  kill  me.         10 

Da.   Why,  where  shoulde  he  talke  with  thee  ? 

Ps,  He  talked  with  me  of  it  here  in  the 
streete. 

Da.  What  did  you  here  ? 

Ps.  I  was  going  to  the  weavers  for  a  webbe  15 
of  clothe  you  have  there. 

Da.  And  what  cause  coulde  Pasiphilo  have 
to  talke  of  it,  unlesse  thou  began  the  mater  first  ? 

Ps.   Nav,  he  began  with  me,  sir,  reviling  me 
because  I  had  tolde  you  of  it :  I  asked  him  how  20 
he  knewe  of  it,  and  he  said  he  was  in  the  stable 
when  you  examined  me  ere  while. 

Da.  Alas,  alas  !  what  shall  I  doe  then  ?  In 
at  dores,  olde  whore ;  I  wil  plucke  that  tong  of 
thine  out  by  the  rootes  one  day.   Alas,  it  greeveth   25 


98  §^UppO0e0  [Act  V. 

me  more  that  Pasiphilo  knoweth  it  than  all  the 
rest.    He  that  will   have  a  thing  kept   secrete, 
let   him   tell    it   to   Pasiphilo;    the   peddle   shall 
knowe  it,  and  as  many  as  have  eares  and  no  mo. 
By  this   time  he   hath   tolde   it    in   a  hundreth  30 
places.    Cleander  was  the  firste,  Erostrato  the 
seconde,  and  so  from  one  to  another  throughout 
the    citie.     Alas  !   what    dower,    what  mariage 
shall  I  nowe  prepare  for  my  daughter?    O  poore 
dolorous  Damon,  more  miserable  than  miserie  it  35 
selfe,  would  God  it  were  true  that  Poly-   ^,    ^^^ 
nesta    tolde  me  ere  while,  that   he   who   suppose 
hathe  deflowred   hir  is  of  no  servile  es-   brought  to 
tate  (as  hitherto  he  hath  bene  supposed   '^^"'^ " 
in  my  service),  but  that  he  is  a  gentleman,  borne  40 
of  a  good  parentage  in  Sicilia.    Alas !  small  riches 
shoulde  content  me,  if  he  be  but  of  an  honest 
famihe ;  but  I  feare  that  he  hathe  devised  these 
toyes  to  allure  my  daughtres  love.    Well,  I  wil 
goe  examine  hir  againe ;   my  minde  giveth  me  45 
that  I  shall  perceive  by  hir  tale  whether  it  be 
true  or  not.    But  is  not  this  Pasiphilo  that  com- 
meth  out   of  my  neighbours  house  ?    What  the 
devill  ayleth  him  to  leape   and  laughe  so  like  a 
foole  in  the  high  way  ?  50 

Pasiphilo  commeth  out  of  the  \house\  laughing. 

48  home.   Qq,  towne,  but  the  change  is  noted  in  Qi,  '*  Faultes 
escaped  correction." 


Scene  VII. ]  ^UppO00Si  99 

SCENA    SEPTIMA. 

^Pasiphiio,'^   Damon. 

^PasiphiIo.~\  O  God,  that  I  might  finde  Damon 
at  home. 

Damon    \aside]^ .   What    the    divill   would   he 
with  me  ? 

Pa.   That  I  may  be  the  firste  that  shall  bring     5 
him  these  newes. 

Da.  \aside\ .   What  will    he   tell    me,  in   the 
name  of  God  ? 

Pa.   O  Lord,  how  happie  am  I  ?   Loke  where 
he  is  !  10 

Da.   What  newes,  Pasiphilo,  that  thou  arte 
so  merie  ? 

Pa,   Sir,    I    am    mery  to   make  you   glad.     I 
bring  you  joyfull  newes. 

Da.   And  that  I  have  nede  of,  Pasiphilo.  15 

Pa.  I  knowe,  sir,  that  you  are  a  sorowfull 
man  for  this  mishap  that  hath  chaunced  in  your 
house ;  peradventure  you  thoughte  I  had  not 
knowen  of  it.  But  let  it  passe  ;  plucke  up  your 
sprits  and  rejoyce  ;  for  he  that  hath  done  you  20 
this  injurie  is  so  well  borne  and  hath  so  riche 
parents  that  you  may  be  glad  to  make  him  your 
Sonne  in  law. 

Pasiphilo^  Damon,  Qi.    Q2,  Q3,  Philogano,  Damon. 


100  ^UppO0e0  [ActV. 

Da.   How  knowest  thou  ? 

Pa.   His  father  Philogano,  one  of  the   wor-  25 
thiest  men  in  all  Cathanea,  is  nowe  come  to  the 
citie,  and  is  here  in  your  neighbours  house. 

Da.  What,  in  Erostratos  house? 

Pa.  Nay,  in  Dulipos  house  :  for  where  you 
have  alwayes  supposed  this  gentleman  to  be  30 
Erostrato,  it  is  not  so,  but  your  servaunt,  whom 
you  have  emprisoned  hitherto,  supposed  to  be 
Dulipo,  he  is  in  dede  Erostrato  :  and  that  other 
is  Dulipo.  And  thus  they  have  alwayes,  even 
since  their  first  arival  in  this  citie,  exchaunged  35 
names,  to  the  ende  that  Erostrato  the  maister, 
under  the  name  of  Dulipo  a  servant,  might  be 
entertained  in  your  house,  and  so  winne  the  love 
of  your  daughter. 

Da.  Wei,  then,  I  perceive  it  is  even  as  Poll-  4° 
nesta  told  me. 

Pa,  Why,  did  she  tell  you  so  ? 

Da,  Yea :   but  I  thought  it  but  a  tale. 

Pa.   Well,  it  is  a  true  tale,  and  here  they  will 
be  with  you  by   and  by  :   both   Philogano,  this  45 
worthie  man,  and  Maister  Doctor  Cleander. 

Da.   Cleander  ?    what  to  doe  ? 

Pa.   Cleander  ?     Why,   therby    lies    another 
tale,  the  moste  fortunate  adventure  that  ever  you 
heard  :  wot  you  what  ?  this  other  Dulipo,  whome  50 
all  this  while  we  supposed  to  be  Erostrato,  is 


Scene  VIII.  ]  ^UppO0e0  I O I 

founde  to  be  the  sonne  of  Cleander,  whome  he 
lost  at  the  losse  of  Otranto,  and  was  after  solde 
in  Sicilia  too  this  Philogano  :  the  strangest  case 
that  ever  you  heard  :  a  man  might  make  a  com-  55 
edie  of  it.  They  wil  come  even  straight,  and 
tell  you  the  whole  circumstance  of  it  themselves. 

Da.  Nay,  I  will  first  goe  heare  the  storie  of 
this  Dulipo,  be  it  Dulipo  or  Erostrato  that  I 
have  here  within,  before  I  speake  with  Philogano.  60 

Pa,  So  shall  you  doe  well,  sir ;  I  will  goe 
tell  them  that  they  may  stay  a  while  ;  —  but  loke 
where  they  come. 

Damon   goeth   tji ;    Scenesey    Cleander    and 
Philogano  come  upon  the  stage. 

ScENA  viii. 

Scenese,  Cleander,   Philogano.     \_Carino,  i.  e.  Dulipo 

no  longer  disguised  as  Erostrato,  ] 

\Scenese^  Sir,  you  shal  not  nede  to  excuse 
the  matter  any  further;  since  I  have  received 
no  greater  injurie  than  by  words,  let  them  passe 
like  wind  ;  I  take  them  well  in  worthe,  and  am 
rather  well  pleased  than  offended  :  for  it  shall  5 
bothe  be  a  good  warning  to  me  another  time 
howe  to  trust  every  man  at  the  first  sighte  ;  yea, 
and  I  shall  have  good  game  here  after  to  tel  this 
pleasant  story  another  day  in  mine  owne  coun- 
trey.  10 


102  ^uppos?es>  [actv. 

Oleander.  Gentleman,  you  have  reason,  and 
be  you  sure  that  as  many  as  heare  it  will  take 
great  pleasure  in  it.  And  you,  Philogano,  may 
thinke  that  God  in  heaven  above  hath  ordained 
your  comming  hither  at  this  present,  to  the  ende  15 
I  mighte  recover  my  lost  sonne,  whom  by  no 
other  meanes  I  coulde  ever  have  founde  oute. 

Philogano.  Surely,  sir,  I  thinke  no  lesse ;  for 
I  think  that  not  so  much  as  a  leafe  falleth  from 
the  tree  without  the  ordinance  of  God.  But  let  20 
us  goe  seke  Damon,  for  me  thinketh  every  day 
a  yeare,  every  hour  a  daye,  and  every  minute  to 
much,  till  I  see  my  Erostrato. 

Cle.  I  cannot  blame  you,  goe  we  then.    Cari- 
no,  take  you  that  gentleman  home  in  the  meane  25 
time ;  the  fewer  the  better  to  be  present  at  such 
affaires.  Pasiphilo  stayeth  their  going  in. 

SCENA    ix. 

\_Pasiphilo,~\    Oleander. 

[Pasiphilo,'^  Maister  Doctor,  will  you  not 
shew  me  this  favour,  to  tell  me  the  cause  of 
your  displeasure  ? 

Oleander.  Gentle  Pasiphilo,  I  muste  needes 
confesse  I  have  done  thee  wrong,  and  that  I     5 

Pasiphilo,  Clea7ider,    Qi.     Q2,  Q3,  Philogano,  Oleander. 


Scene  X.]  ^UppOSfeg  IO3 

beleved  tales  of  thee  whiche  in  deede  I  finde 
now  contrary. 

Pa.  I  am  glad,  then,  that  it  proceeded  rather 
of  ignorance  than  of  malice. 

Cle.   Yea,  beleve  me,  Pasiphilo. 

Pa.  O,  sir,  but  yet  you  shoulde  not  have  given 
me  suche  foule  wordes. 

Cle.  Well,  content  thy  selfe,  Pasiphilo,  I  am 
thy  frende  as  I  have  alwayes  bene  :  for  proofe 
whereof,  come  suppe  with  me  to  night,  and 
from  day  to  day  this  seven  night  be  thou  my 
guest.  But,  beholde,  here  commeth  Damon  out 
of  his  house.  Here  they  come  all  togither. 

SCENA    DECIMA. 

Cleander,   PhiloganOy    BamoTiy    Erostrato,   Pasiphiloy 
Polinesta.     [^Later]   Nevola,  and  other  servaunts. 

\_Cleander.'j  We  are  come  unto  you,  sir,  to 
turne  youfr]  sorowe  into  joy  and  gladnesse  :  the 
sorow,  we  meane,  that  of  force  you  have  sus- 
tained since  this  mishappe  of  late  fallen  in  your 
house.  But  be  you  of  good  comforte,  sir,  and 
assure  your  selfe  that  this  yong  man  which 
youthfully  and  not  maliciously  hath  committed 
this  amorous  offence  is  verie  well  able  (with 
consent  of  this  worthie  man  his  father)  to  make 

17  commeth.     Q3,  corns.  8  able.    Qi,  hable. 


104  Supposes?  [Actv. 

you   sufficient  amendes  :    being  borne   in    Ca-  lo 
thanea  of  Sicilia,  of  a  noble  house,  no  way  in- 
feriour  unto  you,  and  of  wealth  (by  the  reporte 
of  suche  as  knowe  it)  farre  exceeding  that  of 
yours. 

Philogano.  And  I  here,  in  proper  person,  doe  15 
presente  unto  you,  sir,  not  onely  my  assured 
frendship  and  brotherhoode,  but  do  earnestly 
desire  you  to  accepte  my  poore  childe  (though 
unworthy)  as  your  sonne  in  lawe  ;  and  for  re- 
compence  of  the  injurie  he  hath  done  you  I  pro-  20 
fer  my  whole  lands  in  dower  to  your  daughter : 
yea,  and  more  would,  if  more  I  might. 

Cle.  And  I,  sir,  who  have  hitherto  so  earn- 
estly desired  your  daughter  in  manage,  doe 
now  willingly  yelde  up  and  quite  claime  to  this  25 
yong  man,  who  both  for  his  yeares  and  for  the 
love  he  beareth  hir,  is  most  meetest  to  be  hir 
husband.  For  wher  I  was  desirous  of  a  wife 
by  whom  I  might  have  yssue,  to  leave  that  litle 
which  God  hath  sent  me,  now  have  I  litle  neede,  3° 
that  (thankes  be  to  God)  have  founde  my  deerely 
beloved  sonne,  whom  I  loste  of  a  childe  at  the 
siege  of  Otranto. 

Damon.  Worthy  gentleman,  your  friendship, 
your  alliaunce,  and  the  nobilitie  of  your  birthe  35 
are  suche,  as  I  have  muche  more  cause  to  de- 
sire them  of  you  than  you  to  request  of  me  that 


Scene  X]  &UppO0efl>  IO5 

which  is  already  graunted.  Therefore  I  gladly 
and  willingly  receive  the  same,  and  thinke  my 
selfe  moste  happie  now  of  all  my  life  past  that  40 
I  have  gotten  so  toward  a  Sonne  in  lawe  to  my 
selfe,  and  so  worthye  a  father  in  lawe  to  my 
daughter  :  yea,  and  muche  the  greater  is  my 
contentation,  since  this  worthie  gentleman, 
Maister  Cleander,  doth  holde  himselfe  satisfied.  45 
And  now  behold  your  sonne. 

Erostrato.   Oh,  father  !  {^Bursts  into  Uars.] 

Pasiphilo.  Beholde  the  naturall  love  of  the 
childe  to  the  father:  for  inwarde  joye  he  cannot 
pronounce  one  worde,  in  steade  wherof  he  send-  50 
eth  sobbes  and  teares  to  tell  the  effect  of  his 
inward  in[t]ention.  But  why  doe  you  abide 
here  abrode  ?  wil  it  please  you  to  goe  into  the 
house,  sir  ? 

Da.  Pasiphilo  hath  saide  well :   will  it  please  55 
you  to  goe  in,  sir  ?         \_Enter  Nevola  with  chains.'] 

Nevola.  Here  I  have  brought  you,  sir,  bothe 
fetters  and  boltes. 

Da.  Away  with  them  now. 

Ne.  Yea,  but  what  shal  I  doe  with  them  ?        60 

Da.  Marie,  I  will  tell  thee,  Nevola  :  to  make 
a  righte  ende  of  our  supposes,  lay  one  of  those 
boltes  in  the  fire,  and  make  thee  a  suppositorie 
as  long  as  mine  arme,  God  save  the  sample. 

52  intention^  Qi.     Qa,   Q3,  invention. 


io6  S^uppOSffflf  [Actv. 

Nobles  and  gentlemen,  if  you  suppose  that  our  65 
supposes  have  given  you  sufficient  cause  of  de- 
lighte,  shewe  some  token,  whereby  we  may  sup- 
pose you  are  content. 

Et  plauserunt. 


FINIS. 


0ott$  to  ^uppojsejs 

First  Performance  of  Gli  Soppositi  (in  prose)  at 

Ferrara.  Bernardino  Prosper!  to  the  Marchioness  of  Mantua, 
Feb.  8,  1509. 

Marti  sera  il  Revo.  Cardinale  fece  la  sua  composta  per  D.  Lu- 
dovico  Ariosto,  comedia  invero  per  moderna,^  tuta  delectevole  et 
piena  de  moralita  et  parole  et  gesti  da  riderne  assai  cum  triplice  fal- 
lacie  o  sia  sottopositione.  Lo  argomento  i'o  recitato  per  lo  compo- 
sitore,  et  e  bellissimo  et  multo  accomodato  a  li  modi  et  costumi  nostri, 
perche  il  caso  accadete  a  Ferrara,  secundo  lui  finge,  come  credo 
forse  che  V.  S.  ne  habii  noticia,  et  per  questo  non  me  extendo  a 
nararglela  altrimenti.  Li  intermeci  furono  tuti  canti  et  musiche,  et  in 
fine  de  la  comedia,  Vulcano  cum  Ciclopi  baterno  saette  a  sono  de 
piffari,  battendo  il  tempo  cum  martelli  et  cum  sonagli  che  tenivano 
a  le  gambe,  et  facto  questo  acto  de  le  saette  col  menar  de'  mantici, 
fecero  una  morescha  cum  dicti  martelli.^ 

First  Performance  of  I  Suppositi  (in  verse)  at 
Rome.  Alfonso  Pauluzzo  to  the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  March  8,  1579. 

Fui  a  la  Comedia  Dominica  sera  et  feceme  intrare  Mons.  de  Ran- 
goni  dove  era  Nostro  Signore  con  questi  suoi  Reverendissimi  Cardinale 
gioveni  in  una  anticamera  di  Cibo,  et  li  pasegiava  Nostro  Signore 
per  lassare  introdure  quella  qualita  di  homini  li  parea  :  et  intrati  a  quel 
numero  voleva  Sua  Santita,  se  aviamo  al  loco  dela  Comedia,  dove 
il  prefato  Nostro  Signore  se  pose  ala  porta,  e  senza  strepito,  con  la 
sua  benedictione,  permesse  intrare  che  li  parea  ;  et  introsl  neb  sala, 
che  da  un  lato  era  la  sena  et  da  laltro  era  loco  facto  de  gradi  dal  cielo 
de  la  sala  sino  quasi  in  tera,  dove  era  la  sedia  de  Pontifico:  quale, 
di  poiforno  intrati  li  seculari,  intro  et  posesi  sopra  la  sedia  sua  quale 
era  cinque  gradi  alta  de  terra,  et  lo  seguitorno  li  Reverendissimi  con 
li  Ambasatori,  et  da  ogni  lato  de  la  sedia  si  poseno  sicundo  Tordine 
loro.  Et  seduto  il  populo,  che  poteva  essere  in  numero  de  dua  mila 
homini,  sonandosi  li  pifari,  si  lasso   cascare  la  tela,  dove  era  pincto 

1  For  this  use  of  per,  see  Blanc,  Italienische  Grammatii,  p.  568. 

2  Campori:  Notixie  per  la  vita  di  L.  Ariosto^  P- 69.  Ferrazzi,  p.  ZOO. 
D'  Ancona,  ii,  p.  394,  Note  2. 


io8  Jl^otetf 

Fra  Mariano  ^  con  alcuni  diavoli  che  giugavano  con  esse  da  ogni  lato 
de  la  tella,  et  poi  in  mezo  de  la  tella  v'  era  un  breve  che  diceva: 
S^uesti  sono  li  capreci  de  Fra  Mariano.  Et  sonandosi  tutavia  et  il 
Papa  mirando  con  el  suo  occhiale  la  sena  che  era  molto  bela,  de 
mano  de  Rafaele,  et  representavasi  bene  per  mia  fe  ferara  ^  de  pro- 
spective, che  molto  forno  laudate:  et  mirando  anchora  el  cielo  che 
molto  si  representava  belo,  et  poi  li  candeleri  che  erano  formati  in 
lettere,  che  ogni  lettera  subteneva  cinque  torcie,  et  diceano  LEO  X. 
PON.  MAXIMVS.  Sopragionse  el  Nuncio  in  seno,  et  recito 
r  argumento,  in  demonstrar  che  Ferara  era  venuta  lie  sotto  fede  de 
Cibo  per  non  tenerse  de  menor  vaglia  di  Mantoa,  che  era  sta  por- 
tata  I'anno  passato  da  Sancta  Maria  in  Portico:  ^  et  bischizo  sopra 
il  titolo  de  la  comedia,  che  e  de  Suppositi,  de  tal  modo  che  il  Papa 
ne  rise  assai  gagliardamente  con  li  astanti  j  et  per  quanto  intendo  se 
ni  scandalizorno  Francesi  alquanto  sopra  quelli  Supposki.  Se  recito 
la  comedia  et  fu  molto  bene  pronunciataj  et  per  ogni  acto  se  li  inter- 
medio  una  musica  de  pifari,  de  cornamusi,  de  dui  corneti,  de  viole 
et  leuti,  de  Torganeto  che  e  tanto  variato  de  voce  che  dono  al  Papa 
Mons.  lUustrissimo  de  bona  memoria/  et  insieme  vi  era  un  flauto 
et  una  vece  che  molto  bene  si  commendo.  Li  fu  anche  un  concerto 
de  voce  in  musica,  che  non  comparse  per  mio  judicio  cossi  bene 
come  le  altre  musice.  L'  ultimo  intermedio  fu  la  moresca,  che  si 
represento  la  Fabula  de  Gorgon^  et  fu  assai  bella;  ma  non  in  queUa 
perfectione  chio  ho  visto  representare  in  sala  de  Vostra  Signoria;  et 
con  questa  se  fine. 

Elizabethan  comment  on  Supposes.  Gabriel  Har- 
vey, in  the  copy  of  Q2  signed  by  him  with  the  date  "  Londini, 
Cal.  Sept.  1577,"  now  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  writes  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  title-page  of  this  division  of  Gascoigne's  works:  **  The 
best  part,  Hearbes  ;  especially,  the  Comedy,  and  Tragedy,  excel- 
lent," and  at  the  top  of  the  same  page:  '*  A  fine  Comedie  :  and 
a  statelie  Tragedie."  At  the  end  of  the  Prologue  to  Supposes 
he   adds:    "To    coosen    the  expectation,   one   notable   point    in  a 

1  Successor  of  Bramante  in  the  officio  del  piombo  and  also  Leo  X's 
chief  court  jester. 

2  The  text  adopted  is  that  of  Ademollo  {Carnevale  di  Roma.  Docu- 
menti  Inediti,  1499-1520.  Firenze,  1886),  which  appears  to  be  the  most 
accurate.    Campori  here  read  forami.,  and  Czpelli  forme. 

J  Alluding  to  the  play  acted  the  year  before,  the  scene  of  which  was 
Mantua.    It  was  probably  Grasso's  Eutichia. 
4  The  Cardinal  of  Arragon. 


iPoteflf 


109 


Comedie  :    and  one  of  the  singularities   of  Unico  Aretino,   in  his 
courting  Italian  Comedies." 

Gascoigne's  debt  to  the  Italian  versions  of  Sup- 
poses. Several  editions  of  Ariosto's  comedy  were  published  be- 
fore the  date  of  Gascoigne's  translation;  for  the  prose  version  (P), 
I  have  used  the  Rome  edition  of  1524  ;  for  the  verse  (V),  that  of 
Venice  of  1551.  Two  French  translations  had  also  appeared,  of 
which  I  have  seen  one,  that  of  J.  P.  de  Mesmes,  published  at  Paris 
in  1552  —  "  Ariosto  La  Comedie  des  supposez.  En  Italien  et  Fran- 
9oys. ' '  From  this  Gascoigne  possibly  took  his  title,  which  is  not  a 
very  happy  translation  of  the  Italian  original,  but  he  appears  to  have 
taken  nothing  more.  He  had  evidently  both  the  prose  and  the 
verse  of  the  Italian  original  under  his  eye  ;  this  maybe  gathered  from 
the  following  table  showing  the  names  of  the  characters,  which  differ 
somewhat  in  the  two  Italian  versions,  and  are  taken  by  Gascoigne, 
sometimes  from  one,  sometimes  from  the  other  : 


Prose 

Verse 

Gascoigne 

Nutrice 

Balia 

Balia,  the 

Polymnesta 

Polinesta 

Polynesta 

Cleandro 

Cleandro 

Cleander 

Pasiphilo 

Pasiphilo 

Pasiphilo 

Charione  ) 
Carione     ( 

Carione     ) 
Charione  ) 

Carion 

Dulipo 

Dulippo 

(  Dulipo 
I  Dulippo 

Erostrato 

Erostrato 

Erostrato 

DaUo 

Dalio 

Dalio 

Crapino 

Caprino 

Crapino 

Sanese 

Sanese 

Scenaese 

Servo 

Servo 

Paquetto  i 
Petrucio 

Damone 

Damonio 

Damon 

Nebbia 

Nevola 

Nevola 

Psiteria 

Psiteria 

Psiteria 

Philogono 

Philogono 

Philogano 

Lyco 

Litio 

Litio 

Ferrarese 

Ferrarese 

Ferrarese 

See  note  37,  24,  on  p.  115. 


no  j^otesf 

Of  course,  too  much  importance  must  not  be  attached  to  minor 

differences :  in  both  Italian  and  English  texts,  /  and  y  are  practically 
interchangeable  5  and  while  Dulipo  only  is  found  in  P,  both  forms 
occur  in  V,  though  in  the  latter  pp  is  the  rule  5  in  the  English 
text  p  is  the  rule  of  Qi,  pp  of  Q3,  but  the  printer  is  so  blind  to 
the  difference  that  the  catch-word  at  the  bottom  of  p.  19  of  Qi 
is  printed  Du/ippo,  and  the  first  word  on  p.  20  Dulipo.  Still, 
the  conclusion  formed  from  a  comparison  of  the  three  lists  must 
be  that  both  P  and  V  were  used,  and  this  is  abundantly  confirmed 
by  an  examination  of  the  texts.  The  English  version  has  phrases 
which  are  found,  sometimes  only  in  P,  sometimes  only  in  V. 
Thus  in  the  first  scene,  line  15,  '*  I  have  given  you  a  wherfore  for 
this  why  many  times,"  is  from  P  ;  so  are  lines  1 16-18,  "  —  he  cast 
aside  both  long  gowne  and  bookes,  and  determined  on  me  only 
to  apply  his  study  ' '  j  but  slight  phrases  at  the  end  of  the  scene 
show  that  V  was  also  used.  It  will  be  seen  from  a  comparison 
of  passages  such  as  the  following  (from  i,  ii)  that  both  P  and  Vf 
were  subjected  to  careful  scrutiny  : 

P. 

Cle.  lo  la  Dio  gratia  de  mia  eta  ho  assai  buona  vista,  e  sento  in 
me  poca  differentia  di  quel  ch'  io  ero  di  venticinque,  o  trenta  anni. 

Pas.   E  perche  no,  sei  tu  forsi  vecchio  } 

Cle.   Io  sono  nelli  cinquanta  sei  anni. 

Pas.  Ne  dice  dieci  mancho. 

Cle.   Ch'  di  tu,  dieci  mancho  ? 

Pas.  Dico  ch'  io  te  istimavo  de  dieci  anni  mancho,  non  mostri 
passare  trenta  sei,  o  trent'  otto  al  piu. 

Gascoigne. 

Cle.  In  good  fayth  and  I  thanke  God  I  have  mine  eye  sighte 
good  and  perfit,  little  worse  than  when  I  was  but  twentie  yeres 
olde. 

Pa.   How  can  it  be  otherwise  ?  you  are  but  yong. 

Cle.    I  am  fiftie  yeres  olde. 

Pa.    He  telles  ten  lesse  than  he  is. 

Cle.   What  sayst  thou  of  ten  lesse  ? 

Pa.  I  say  I  woulde  have  thoughte  you  tenne  lesse,  you  looke 
like  one  of  sixe  and  thirtie,  or  seven  and  thirtie  at  the  moste. 


0OttS  1 1 1 

V. 

C.   lo  de  la  etade  mia  ho  assai  Dio  gratia, 
Buona  vista,  ne  molto  differentia 
In  me  sento  da  quel  che  solevo  essere 
Di  venti  anni  o  di  trenta.      P.  perche  credere 
Debb'  io  altrimenti  ?  non  sete  voi  giovene  ? 

C.    Son  ne  cinquanta  anni.      P.    piu  di  dodici 
Dice  di  manco.      C.   che  di  manco  dodici 
Di  tu  ?  P.   che  vi  estimavo  piu  di  dodici 
Anni  di  manco.  non  mostrate  a  1'  aria 
Passar  trentasette  anni. 

It  is  inconceivable  that  variations  so  slight  should  have  been  in- 
troduced later  from  either  version  ;  Gascoigne  must  have  used  P 
and  V  simultaneously.  The  differences  between  P  and  V  are 
not  very  great,  and  much  of  the  English  translation  might  have 
been  taken  from  either  :  but  so  far  as  one  can  judge,  Gascoigne 
adheres  more  closely  to  V,  though  with  constant  reference  to  P, 
and  occasionally  (as  in  v,  vi)  with  entire  reliance  on  it.  Further 
details  are  given  below.  Gascoigne' s  additions  to  the  original  are 
marked  —  G. 

5.  The  Prologue  is  adapted  from  P  and  V,  as  will  be  seen 
from  the  following  extracts,  being  the  first  parts  of  each: 

P. 

Qui  siamo  per  farvi  d'  una  nuova  Comedia  spettatori.  il  nome  e 
li  Soppositi,  per  che  de  soppositioni  e  tutta  plena.  Che  li  fanciulli 
sieno  stati  per  ladietro  soppositi,  so  che  non  pur  nelle  Comedie,  ma 
letto  havete  nelle  historie  anchora,  et  forse  e  qui  tra  voi  chi  Iha 
in  esperientia  havuto.  Ma  che  li  vecchi  sieno  da  li  gioveni  soppo- 
siti, vi  debbe  per  certo  parer  nuovo  etstrano,  et  pur  li  vecchi  alcuna 
volta  si  soppongono  similmente,  il  che  vi  sia  nella  nuova  fabula  notissi- 
mo.  Non  pigliate  benigni  Auditori  questo  sopponere  in  mala  parte, 
che  bene  in  altra  guisa  si  soppone,  che  non  lascio  nelli  suoi  lascivi  libri 
Elephantide  figurato,  et  in  altri  anchora  che  non  s'  hanno  li  con- 
tentiosi  Dialetici  imaginato.  qui  con  altre  soppositioni  il  ser\'o  per  lo 
libero,  e  il  libero  per  lo  servo  si  soppone.  et  vi  confessa  Tautore 
havere  in  questo  et  Plauto  et  Terentio  seguitato,  etc. 


112  iPotr0 

V. 

Che  talhora  i  fanciulli  si  soppongano 
A  nostra  etade  ;  e  per  adietro  siano 
Stati  non  meno  piu  volte  soppositi  ; 
Oltre  che  voi  Thabbiate  ne  le  fabule 
Veduto,  e  letto  ne  T  antique  historic  ; 
Forse  e  qui  alcuno  che  in  esperientia- 
L'  ha  havuto  anchor  :   ma  che  li  vecchi  siano 
Similmente  da  i  gioveni  soppositi 
Nuovo,  e  strano  vi  dee  parer  certissima- 
Mente,  e  pur  ancho  i  vecchi  si  soppongono  : 
Ma  voi  ridete,  oh  che  cosa  da  ridere 
Havete  da  me  udita  ?  ah  ch'  io  mi  inmagino 
Donde  cotesto  riso  dee  procedere. 
Voi  vi  pensate  che  qualibe  sporcitia 
.  Vi  voglia  dire,  o  farvene  spettacolo. 

9>  50-53-  In  deede  .  .  .  flames  of  love.  —  G. 

Gabriel  Harvey  solemnly  comments  upon  this  scene  :  "  They 
speak  of  the  Doctor  to  serve  their  owne  turne  ;  but  he  is  highly 
commended  in  54.  68  [iv,  viii,  116,  v,  x,  44],  and  worthily, 
as  should  seem  by  anie  course  of  his  owne,  in  acts,  or  words." 

10,  80.  I  can  not  tell  .  .  .  Greeke  to  me.  —  G. 
13.    The  stage-direction  at  the  end  of  i,  i,  and  the  pre- 
sence and  aside  of  the  Nurse  in  ii,  are  inserted  by  Gascoigne. 

16,  76-77.  The  trade  ...  in  ragges.     Not  a  good 

translation  of  the  verses  quoted  in  the  original :  Opes  dat  Sanctio 
Justiniana  ex  aliis  paleas,  ex  istis  collige  grana. 

16,  93.  by  God  ...  in  these  dayes. —  G. 

18,  148.  He  speaketh  .  .  .  faste.  P.  Park  coi  morti, 
che  digiunano  altresi.  V :  the  same  words  otherwise  arranged. 
Gascoigne  appears  to  have  misunderstood  the  original,  which  is  an 
imprecation,  —  in  the  imperative,  not  the  indicative  mood,  — 
equivalent  to  "  I  would  you  were  enjoying  a  dead  man's  fast." 

21,  21.  whiche  .  .  .  and  al.  —  G. 

22,  82-86.  astheflie  .  .  .  consumption.  —  G.  Here 
and  elsewhere  in  Gascoigne's  additions  to  the  play,  we  have  the 
marks  of  the  euphuistic  style  —  similes  taken  from  natural  history, 
balanced  clauses,  and  alliteration. 


^ott&  113 

23,  9^97-  I  have  free  libertie  .  .  .  the  more  I  de- 
sire. —  G. 

23.  106-11.  Alas,  the  pleasant  tast  .  .  .  dolours. 

—  G.     See  note  above  as  to  euphuism. 

24.  Stage-direction.  —  G. 

25.  Scena  iiii.     This  little  scene  gives  a  good  example  of 
Gascoigne's  way  of  dealing  with  his  originals  : 

P. 

DuLiPO,  Crapin  Ragazzo   di  Erostrato. 

Da/.   O  Crapin  che  e  de  Erostrato  ? 

Cra.    De  Erostrato  sono  libri,   veste  e  denari,  e  molte  altre  cose, 

ch'  egli  ha  in  casa. 
Dul.   Ah  ghiotto  io  te  dimando  che  minsegni  Erostrato. 
Cra.    A  compito,  o  a  distesa  ? 

Dul.   S'io  ti  prendo  ne  i  capilli,  te  farro  respondermi  a  proposito. 
Cra.    Tarrvo. 
Dul.   Aspettami  un  poco. 
Cra.    Io  non  ci  ho  tempo. 

Dul.    Per  dio  proveremo,  chi  di  noi  corre  piu  forte. 
Cra.    Tu  mi  dovevi  dare  vantaggio,  che  hai  piu  lunghe  le  gambe. 
Du/.    Dime  Crapino  che  e  de  Erastrato  ? 
Cra.    Usci  questa  mattina  per  tempo  di  casa,  e  non  e  mai  ritornato, 

io  Io  vidi  poi  in  piazza  che  me  disse  ch'   io  venissi  a  torre 

questo  cesto,  e  che  tornasse  li  dove   Dalio  me  aspettaria  e 

cosi  ritorno. 
Dul.   Va  adunque  e  se  tu  il  vedi  digli  chio  ho  gran  bisogno  de  par- 

larli,  meglio  e  che  anch'  io   vada  alia  piazza  che  forse  Io 

trovero. 

V. 

Caprino,  Ragazzo,  Dulippo  finto. 

Di  Erostrato  ?  dirotelo,  di  Erostrato 
Son  molti  libri  :   e  molte  masseritie, 
E  vesti,  e  panni  lini,  e  cosi  simili. 
JD.  Io  ti  domando  che  m'  insegni  Erostrato. 


1 14  iPote0 

C.   A  compito,  o  a  distesa  ?   D.  che  sea  mettere 

Le  man  ti  vengo  ne  le  orecchie,  creditu 

Ch'  io  ti  faro  rispondere  a  proposito  ? 
C.   Tarvo.    D.  aspettami  un  poco.     C.  per  Dio  scusami 

C  hor  non  ci  ho  1'  agio.    D.  giocaremo  a  correre. 
C.   Tu  c'  hai  piu  lunghe  le  gambe  dovevime 

Dar  vantaggio.    D.  horsu  dimmi  che  e  di  Erostrato  ? 

C.  Io  r  ho  lasciato  in  piazza,  ove  ricorrere 
M'  ha  fatto  a  tor  questo  capestro,  volsiti 
Dir  canestro,  et  ha  seco  Dalio,  e  dissemi 
Che  a  la  porta  del  Duca  m'  aspettavano. 

D.  Se  tu  Io  truovi,  digli  che  grandissimo 
Bisogno  havrei  di  parlarli.  deh  aspettami, 

Gli  e  meglio  ch'  anche  io  venga,  che  trovandolo 
Potro  senza  suspetto,  ne  men  commoda 
Mente,  tra  via  li  miei  concetti  esprimerli. 

The  spelling  ' '  Crapino.  Dulipo  ' '  is  from  P  ;  but  a  closer  ex- 
amination shows  that  V  is  the  version  the  translator  has  mainly- 
relied  upon.  V  puts:  "che  e  di  Erostrato,"  at  the  end  of  the 
preceding  scene  instead  of  the  beginning  of  this  :  orecchie  (V)  is 
chosen,  not  capilli  (P).  The  pun  capestro-ca'vestro  and  the  men- 
tion of  the  Duke's  palace  occur  only  in  P.  The  word-play  in  gen- 
eral is  not  very  happily  rendered,  and  "  going  to  his  house  "  is  a 
positive  mistranslation.  The  stage-direction,  as  in  other  cases,  is 
inserted  by  Gascoigne. 

27,  3.    in  every  streete  and  every  by  lane.   P.  hor 

nella  piazza,  hor  nel  cortile.    The  cortile  is  a  square  in  Ferrara  near 
the  Piazza. 

27,  16-18.    Yea,  but  so  long  .  .  .  in  earnest. — G. 

This  fondness  for  popular  proverbs  is  characteristic  of  Gascoigne. 

29-30,  78-80.  to  follow  this  amorous  enterprise 
.  .  .  dread  of  shame.  —  G. 

30,  83-85.  a  salve  for  every  sore  ...  a  remedie.  —  G. 

30,  92.  beyond  S.  Anthonies  gate.  P.  de  la  porta 
del  leone.    V.  de  la  porta  de  gli  Angeli. 

32,  134-35.  to  the  King  of  Naples.  In  the  original  the 
ambassadors  are  said  to  be  on  their  way  from  Naples  to  Ferrara, 
with  presents  from  the  King  to  the  Duke. 


jliote0  115 

32,  135.   the   officers  whom  you   cal  customers. 

V.  questi  public!  [  Ladroni,  che  Doganieri  si  chiamono. 

32,  147.  his  Chauncelor.  P.  uno  suo  cancellario.  But 
most  of  this  scene  is  taken  from  V. 

33,  161-62.  You  would  fayne  .  .  .  the  hedge.  —  G. 

See  note  on  27,  16,  above. 

35,  217-18.    when  he  shall  binde  a  strange  name, 
and  not  his  owne.    Loose  translation  of  V.  non  essendoci  | 
Scritto  il  suo  nome,  ma  quel  d'uno  estraneo. 

35>  238-40.   he  that  fisheth  ...  a  cods  heade.  —  G. 

37,  24.  and  you  also,  sirra  !  P.  e  cosi  dico  a  voi  altrl 
V.  e  cosi  ancho  tu.  Only  one  sers-ant  is  mentioned  in  the  names  at 
the  beginning  of  this  scene  in  the  original  (P.  El  Sanese,  el  suo  Serv'o. 
V.  Senese.  II  suo  Famiglioj.  Qi  reads,  The  Scenese.  Faumlua 
[obviously  a  misprint  for  Famulus]  his  ser\'ant.  Q2  gives  the  names 
Paquetto  and  Petrucio  :  only  the  first  has  a  speaking  part ;  but  the 
second  probably  suggested  to  Shakspere  the  name  of  his  hero  in  The 
Taming  of  the  Sbreiv. 

37,  28.  Haccanea.  An  abortive  attempt  to  reproduce  the 
original  jest: 

P. 

Ser.  De  questo  nome  strano  [i.  e.  Philogono]  me  ricordaro  male, 
ma  quella  Castanea  non  mi  dimenticaro  gia. 

San.   Che  Castanea,  io  te  dico  Catania  in  tuo  mal  punto. 

V. 

F.  cotesto  si  eteroclito 
Nome,  per  certo  havro  male  in  memoria. 
Ma  non  gia  quella  castagna,  si  facile- 
Mente  mi  scordaro.     .S.  dico  Cathanea 
E  non  castagna,  in  tuo  mal  punto. 

37,  37.  in  the  house  of  Crisobolus.  A  reference  to 
Ariosto's  earlier  comedy,  the  Cassaria,  iv,  vii,  where  the  servant 
Trappola  attempts  to  get  out  of  a  scrape  by  pretending  to  be  dumb. 
Possibly  the  same  actor  took  the  servant's  part  in  this  scene. 

39,  3.  Maiors  officers.  V.  Ogni  banchier,  ogni  ufficial 
di  camera. 


ii6  jftoteflf 

39,  8-1  o.  an  harlotrie  .  .  .  spurlings.  A  free  translation 
of  P.  un  luccietto  d'una  libra  e  meza  et  una  pentola  di  ceci,  e  venti 
sparagi. 

39,  1 6.  double  ducke  egges.  A  curious  mistranslation 
of  the  original  doppioni  (doubloons). 

40,  31.    In  faith  now  let  me  alone.    V.  Lascia  pur 

fare  a  me.    The  remark  is  apparently  addressed  to  Carion    aside 
from  Cleander,  to  whom  it  refers.     "  Let  me  deal  with  him." 

42,  76-77.   A  pretie  paune  ...  on  it.   V.  e  debole  | 

Pegno  che  sopra  li  hebrei  non  vi  prestano. 

42,91-92.  Surely.  ..  money  of  him.  An  inadequate  trans- 
lation of  P.  Questadebbe  essere  qualche  ciancietta  che  colui  gli  da  da 
parte  di  questa  giovane  che  Iha  fatto  impazzire,  con  speranza  di 
trarne  qualche  guadagnetto. 

43,  107-09.  they  call  him  .  .  .  upon  it.  The  gross 
jest  is  Gascoigne's  own.  P.  ha  nome  Rosso  rasto,  o  Arosto,  non 
Id  so  dire,  ha  un  nome  indiavolato.  —  V.  si  nomina  |  Arosto,  o 
rospo,  o  grosco,  io  nol  so  esprimere  |  Ha  un  nome  indiavolato. 

44,  127.   That  the  devill  take  him  else.     V.  oh  che 

sel  porti  il  diavolo. 

44>  ^35-37-    I  never  spitte  .  .  .  from  it.     P.  Io  non 

tosso,  ne  sputo  pur  mai.  vho  vho  vho,  e  vero  chio  sono  adesso  un 
poco  infreddato,  ma  chi  non  e  da  questo  tempo. 

44,  142-44.    And  that  you  are  .  .  .  see  them.    This 

coarse  jest  is  only  in  P. 

45,  152.  Nay,  gesse  you  that.  FromV.  Ariosto  omitted 
from  his  second  version  the  coarsest  jest  of  the  prose,  and  in  this 
case  Gascoigne  followed  his  example. 

45,  167.  he  shall  have  a.  &C.  P.  voglio  che  me  cavi  un 
capestro,  che  I'impicchi. 

45,  168-69.  In  good  faith  .  .  .  loste  on  him.  V.  Per 
Dio,  per  Dio,  havra  fatto  gran  perdita  —  it  will  be  a  great  loss  to  him. 

45,  176.  Foule  fall  you. —  P.  and  V.  Mai  ti  venga.  — ill 
befall  you  ! 

46,  180.    Scabbe  catch  you  —  P.  fusti  occiso  —  would  you 

were  killed!     V.  Fossuccio.     In  V  there  is  a  third  insult,  which 
Gascoigne  has  omitted. 

47,  Actus  III.  Scena  i.  This  is  a  good  example  of 
Gascoigne's  careless,  but,  on  the   whole,  vigorous  fashion  of  ren- 


^OttS  117 

dering  his  original.  P,  which  13  substantially  the  same  as  V, 
reads  : 

Dal.  Come  siamo  a  casa,  credo  ch'io  non  ritrovaro  deTova  che 
porta  in  quel  cesto,un  solo  intiero,  ma  con  chi  parlo  io  ?  dove  dia- 
volo  e  rimasto  anchora  questo  ghiotton,  sera  rimasto  a  dare  la  caccia 
a  qualche  cane,  0  a  scherzare  con  Torso,  ad  ogni  cosa  che  trovava 
per  via  se  ferma,  se  vede  facchino,  o  villano,  o  giudeo  non  lo  terri- 
ano  le  catene  che  non  gli  andasse  affar'  qualche  dispiacere.  tu  ver- 
rai  pur  una  volta  capestro,  bisogna  che  di  passo  in  passo  te  vadi 
aspettando,  per  Dio  s'io  truovo  pur  un  solo  di  quella  ova  rotto  te 
rompero  la  testa. 

Cra.    Si  chio  non  potro  sedere. 

Dal.  Ah,  frascha,  frascha. 

Cra.  S'  io  son  frasca,  son  dunque  mal  sicuro  a  venire  con  un 
becco. 

Dal.    S'  io  non  fossi  carico  ti  mostrarei  s'  io  sono  un  becco. 

Cra.  Rare  volte  t'  ho  veduto,  che  non  sii  carico,  o  di  vino,  0  di 
bastonate. 

Dal.    Al  dispetto  chio  non  dico. 

Cra.   Ah  poltrone  tu  biastimi  col  cuore,  e  non  osi  con  la  lingua. 

48,  38-43.  doe  you  make  .  .  .  boyled.  Obviously 
from  V: 

E  pela  i  tordi,  et  i  piccioni,  et  acconciami 

Cotesta  schiena,  con  gran  diligentia, 

E  cosi  il  petto,  e  poi  le  masseritie 

Fa  che  sien'nette,  e  piu  che  specchio  luchino  : 

Come  io  ritorni,  ti  diro  per  ordine 

Qual  debbilesso,  e  qual  arosto  cuocermi. 

49,  57-63.    Now  shall  I  .  .  .  one  ace.     V  reads : 

io  faro  ben  conoscere 
A  quel  dottor  pecorone,  che  studia 
Di  diventare  un  becco,  che  in  maliria 
E  in  cautele  io  non  gli  son  per  cedere. 

50,  6.  at  last  .  .  .  set  up  his  rest.  V.  dolente  al  fin 
pir  vadane,   |  II  resto.     The  meaning  is  "stake  all  he  has  left," 

51,  17-18.    as  many  crosses  .  .  .  brethren,  i.  e.  no 

money  at  all.   For  this  use  of  cross  in  the  sense  of  coin,  see  Murray's 


ii8  jpotes 

Dictionary  under  "cross.  20."  The  theological  form  of  expression 
is  not  found  in  the  original. 

51,  3-9.   Go  in  .   .   .   names.      A  free  translation  of  V: 

va  in  casa  e  di  al  Nevola 
Al  Rosso,  al  Mantovano,  che  a  me  qui  venghino 
Che  dispensarli  voglio  in  diverse  opere. 
E  tu  poi  te  ne  va  ne  la  mia  camera, 
E  cerca  molto  ben  per  quelle  armario 
De  le  scritture,  finche  truovi  un  ruotolo 
D  istrumenti,  che  parlano  de  la  vendita 
Che  fece  Ugo  mal  pensa  a  mio  Bisavolo 
De  le  terre  da  Ro  :   credo  rogatone 
Fusse  un  ser  Lippoda  Piazza 

52,  15.  from  the  depth  of  hell  pitte.   P.  da  casa  del 

gran  diavolo. 

52,  24-25,  it  hangeth  .  .  .  on  the  wall.  V  says'*  in  the 

key-hole"  —  che  lasciata  pel  medesimo  |  EfFetto  ho  ne  la  toppa. 

53,  48.  Alas,  I  should  not  have  committed.    The 

moralizing  from  this  point  to  the  end  of  the  scene  is  largely 
Gascoigne's  :  in  the  original  the  father's  reflections  are  more 
practical  and  to  the  point.  P  (V  is  the  same  in  verse)  :  lo,  io 
solo  son  quello  che  merito  essere  punito,  che  me  ho  fidato  lasciarla 
in  guardia  di  questa  puttana  vecchia,  s'  io  voleva  che  fusse  ben 
custodita,  la  dovea  custodire  io,  farla  dormire  nella  camera  mia, 
non  tenere  famigli  giovini,  non  li  fare  un  buon  viso  mai.  o  cara 
moglie  mia  adesso  conosco  la  jattura  ch'  io  feci  quando  di  te  rimasi 
privo,  dhe  perche  gia  tre  anni  quando  io  potteti  non  la  maritai  ?  se 
ben  non  cosi  riccamente  almen  con  piu  honore  1'  haverei  fatto,  io 
ho  indugiato  de  anno  in  anno,  de  mese  in  mese  per  porla  altamente, 
ecco  che  me  ne  accade,  a  chi  volevo  io  darla,  a  un  Signore  ?  o 
misero,  o  infelice,  o  sciagurato  me,  questo  e  ben  quel  dolore,  che 
vince  tutti  gli  altri,  che  perdere  robba  ?  che  morte  de  figliuoli,  e  de 
moglie  ?  questo  e  lo  affanno  solo  che  puo  uccidere  e  me  uccidera 
veramente,  o  Polymnesta  la  mia  bonta  verso  te,  la  mia  dementia 
non  meritava  cosi  duro  premio. 

55,  4-5.  master  Casteling  .  .  .  S.  Antonies  gate. 

P.  Nomico  da  Perugia.  V.  M.  paulin  da  bibula  :  |  Sta  presso  a 
San  Francesco. 


56,  19-25.  he  had  the  disbursing  .  .  .  canvas.    V: 

Havea  cura  egli  de  lo  spendere 

E  di  tenere  i  conti,  e  del  riscuotere, 

Le  chiavi  de  granari,  in  sua  mano  erano. 

Dulippo  di  qua,  Dulippo  di  la,  intimo 

Egli  al  patrone,  egli  a  i  figliuoii  in  gratia, 

Era  fa  il  tutto,  egli  d'  oro  finissimo, 

Di  fango  eramo  noi  altri,  e  di  polvere. 

56,  23.    magister    factotum.     Mr.  Do-Everjlhing ;  trans- 
lating :  fa  il  tutto. 

56,  27.    Pasi   .    .    .   venit.      **Pasiphilo  comes  in  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly. "  —  G. 

57,  36.  a  rumbling  in  my  belly.     V.  Mi  sentii  in  corpo 
non  so  che. 

57,  50-52.  He  shall  be  sure  .  .   .  belie.     V  reads: 

Chi  la  torra  potra  trovarle  vergine 
Cr[e]atura  nel  corpo,  0  maschio,  o  femina, 
Se  ben  ella  non  e. 

575  50-53-  O  God,  how  men  may  be  deceived  in 
a  woman  !  —  G. 

57,  54-65.    Aske  the  neighbours    .    .    .    hir  else. 

A  free  rendering  of  P  (with  which  V  is  practically  identical): 
Dimanda  la  vicinanza  de  sua  conditione,  la  megliore,  la  piu  divota 
giovane  del  mondo,  non  pratica  mai  se  non  con  suore,  la  piu  parte 
del  di  sta  in  oratione,  rarissime  volte  si  vede  in  uscio,  o  in  finestra, 
non  s'  ode  che  dalcuno  innamorata  sia,  e  una  santarella,  buon  pro 
li  faccia,  colui  che  havera  per  moglie,  guadagnara  piu  dote  che 
non  pensa,  un  par  almen  de  lunghissime  corna,  se  non  piu  mancare 
non  li  possono. 

58,  I.  To   a  gossip  of  myne  heereby.  P.  Qui  preso 

a  una  mia  comare  —  V.  Qua  presso,  a  casa  di  mona  Beritola. 

59,  35.1  woulde  not  for.  &c.  —  G. 

60,  46—47.    Go   .    .   .    old    trotte.    V.  va,  ma  in   polvere. 

61,  15.    at    the  water    gate.    P.    fuori   della   porta   di 
santo  Paulo. 

63.    Scena  iii.      Another  instance  of  Gascoigne's  lively  but " 
inaccurate  manner  of  translating  : 


120  jliote0 

p. 

Cra.  O  vecchia,  o  vecchiaccia  sorda,  non  odi  tu  phantasma  ? 

Psi.  Dio  faccia  che  tu  non  sia  mai  vecchio,  perche  a  te  non  sia 
detto  similmente. 

Cra.  Vedi  un  poco  se  e  Dulipo  in  casa. 

Psi.  Ce  e  pur  troppo,  cosi  non  ci  fusse  egli  mai  stato. 

Cra.  Dilli  in  servitio  mio,  che  venghi  sin  qui  chic  vo  parlargli. 

Psi.  Non  puo  per  ch'egli  e  impacciato. 

Cra.  Fagli  V  ambasciata  volto  mio  bello.  . 

Psi.  Dhe  capestro,  io  te  dico  che  glie  impacciato.  1, 

Cra.  E  tu  sei  impazzata,  h  un  gran  fatto  dirgli  una  parola. 

Psi.  Ben  sai  che  glie  gran  fatto  ghiotto  fastidioso. 

Cra.  O  asina  indiscreta. 

Psi.  O  ti  nasca  la  fistula  ribaldello,  che  tu  sarai  impicato  anchora. 

Cra.  E   tu  sarai  brugiata,   brutta    Strega,  s'el    cancaro    non  ti 

mangia  prima. 

Psi.  Se  mi  t'acosti  te  dare  una  bastonata. 

Cra.  S'io  piglio  un  sasso  te  spezzaro  quella  testaccia  balorda. 

Psi.  Hor  sia  in  mai  hora,  credo  che  sia  el  diavolo  che  me  viene 
a  tentare. 

Ero.  Crapino  ritorna  a  me  che  stai  tu  a  contendere  ?     &c. 


O  buona  donna,  o  vecchia,  o  brutta  femina 

Vecchiaccia  sorda  :  non  odi  phantasima  ? 

P.    Dio  facci  che  tu  vecchio  non  possi  essere 

Mai,  Si  che  alcun  non  t'habbia  a  dire  il  simile. 

C.   Vedi  s  'in  casa  e  Dulippo  di  gratia. 

P.   Cosi  non  ci  fusse  egli.     C.  dhe  domandalo 

Un  poco  da  mia  parte,  c  'ho  grandissimo 

Bisogno  di  parlargli.    P.   habbi  patientia 

Ch'egli  e  impacciato.     C.   volto  mio  bello,  anima 

Mia  cara,  fagli  limbasciata.    P.   dicoti 

Che  glie  impacciato.     C.   e  tu  impazzata,  femina 

Poltrona.    P.   deh  capestro.     C.   o  indiscreta  asina. 

P.   O  ribaldel  che  ti  nasca  la  fistola 

Che  tu  sarai  impiccato.     C.   e  tu  malefica 

Stregha  sarai  bruciata.  se  gia  il  cancaro 


Jliotefif  121 

Pria  nond  mangia.  gran  fatto  sarebbeti 
A  dirgli  una  parola.     P.   se  t'  approssimi 
lo  ti  daro  una  bastonata.     C.    Guardati, 
Vecchia,  imbriaca,  che  s'io  piglio  un  ciottolo 
Non  ti  spezzi  questo  capo  di  scimia. 
P.   Hor  sia  in  malhora  :   credo  tu  sia  il  diavolo 
Che  me  viene  a  tentar.    E.    Crapin  non  odi  tu 
Ritorna  a  me.   che  stai  cosi  a  contendere  ?     &c. 

64,  14.  Ancona.  Ariosto  mentions  Loreto  before  Ancona, 
but  some  of  the  texts  are  corrupt  at  this  point,  and  Gascoigne  may 
have  omitted  it  for  this  reason. 

64,  27.  fardings.  Gascoigne  here  sacrificed  the  sense  to 
alliteration.  P.  robba  da  datio.  V.  Mercancie,  0  robe  che  pagasson 
datio. 

64,  28-30.  Sure  .  .  .  knaves  still.  A  mistranslation  of 
V.  Ho  inteso  che  cotesti  fanno  pessime  |  Cose  e  che  i  Marcadanti 
vi  assassinano,  —  Evidently  it  is  the  excisemen,  not  the  merchants, 
who  do  the  <*  bobbing." 

65 »  34-    pleasant.    P  and  V.  accrescimento  di  letitia. 

66,  75.    womanlike.     P  and  V.  feminile. 

67,  90.  enough  .  .  .  feast.  V.  riprensibile  |  E  ogni  cosa 
troppo.     Gascoigne's  fondness  for  proverbs  has  been  already  noted. 

67,  97-98.    your  grandefathers  soule.    P.  tua  madre. 

V.  v'havesse  dato  Tessere.  The  verse  edition  of  1562  (Venice) 
puts  this  and  the  next  line  into  the  following  scene.  That  of  1551 
has  the  same  arrangement  as  Gascoigne  has  adopted  :  so  have  ap- 
parently all  the  prose  editions. 

68,  27.  three  houres.  P.  piu  de  quattro  hore.  V.  due  hore 
0  piu. 

68,  28.  at  the  Aungell.  P.  all  hosteria  dela  Corona.  V. 
al  Angelo. 

69,34-36.    I  am  matched  .  .  .  another  while.  —  G. 

72,  45.  this  good  fawchion.  Pand  V.  questo  schidone 
—  this  spit. 

72,46.  if  my  maister  .  .  .  burst.  A  free  translation  of  P 
(V  is  slightly  different)  :  guai  a  te  se  Erostrato  qui  se  trovava, 
torna  in  casa  signore,  e  lascia  gracchiare  questo  uccellaccio  nella 
strada  tanto  che  si  crepi. 


122  jl^ote0 

72,  2-5.    Sir,  I  like  it  .  .  .  accordingly.     Gascoigne 

has  failed  here  to  reproduce  the  force  of  the  original  which  puns  on 

Ferrara  diXiAferro  (iron)  —  gli  effetti  secondo  il  nome  escono  (V). 

72,  9.    Well   .    .    .    both.    P  and  V.  Tutti  n'  avete  colpa. 

72,  II.    officers,     p.  officiali.  V.  Rettori. 

73,  27-28,    either  at  the  schooles  .  .  .  find  him. 

P.  andaremo  ale  schole  prima,  se  non  e  quivi,  lo  trovaremo  alia 
piazza.  V.  o  al  escuole  il  trovaremo  ?  o  al  circolo  |  In  vescovato. 
This  last  expression  puzzles  the  Italian  commentators.  Barotti  sug- 
gests that  the  doctoral  exercises  were  held  in  the  bishop's  palace. 
Gascoigne  probably  fell  back  on  his  general  knowledge  of  English 
university  life. 

74,  Scena  vii.  This  scene  appears  to  be  taken  entirely 
from  V. 

76,  62.  cackabed.  This  coarse  expression  is  added  by  Gas- 
coigne.    P.  vecchio  rabbioso.    V.  vecchio  farnetico. 

76.  Scena  viii.  The  opening  speech  of  this  scene  is  loosely 
translated. 

79,  60.       coram  judice.      In  the  presence  of  the  judge. 

80,  98-99.  Well  sayd  .  .  .  lookes.  The  earlier  part  of  this 
scene  seems  to  be  taken  from  P,  but  this  speech  is  evidently  from  V: 

anchio  pochissima 
Fede  ho  in  questi  che  torto  il  capo  portano  j 
E  con  parole  mansuete,  et  humili 
Si  van  coprendo  fin  che  te  1'  attacano. 

P  has  simply  :   questi  che  portano  el  colo  torto. 

84,  51-52-    he  was  taken  .  .  .  Polynesta.    P.  e  stato 

ritrovato,  che  si  giagea  con  Polymnesta  tua. 

85,  58-59.    I  thinke  .  .  .  sweete  meates.    P.  faranno 

de  peccati  lor  durissima  penitentia. 

85,62-63.  I  make  thee  .  ,  .  supper.  —  G. 

85,  64-67.    By  the  masse  .  .  .  devise.    V.  Se  voi  certo 
m'  havete  fatto  judice  |    De  savii  non    mi  havreste  dato  ufficio  | 
Che  fosse  piu  di  questo  a  mio  proposito.  — Judice  de  savii,  head  of 
the  city  magistrates. 

85,  6.  bounce  .  .  .  hevy  heart.  The  alliteration  here 
and  all  through  this  speech  is  Gascoigne' s. 

87,  52.  as  it  were  at  an  owle.  —  G. 


j^ote0  123 

88,  7-8.  the  shoulder  of  mutton  and  the  capon.  P. 
li  Tordi,  con  la  lonza. 

88,  21.  and  caphers.  —  G. 

88-89,  27-35-  Since  I  told  him  ...  of  a  new  fash- 
ion.    Loose  translation  of  V  : 

Poi  ch'  io  gli  ho  detto  che  Dulippo  e  in  carcere 
Tutto  e  tomato  bizzaro  e  fantastico. 
Tanto  martello  ha  che  creppa.     ma  habbilo 
Quanto  si  vuole,    il  cuor  gli  crepi,  e  1  anima 
Pur  ch'  io  ceni  con  lui,  c'  ho  da  curarmene  ? 
Ma  non  e  questo  che  viene  in  qua  dominus 
Cleandrus  ?  bene  veniat.  noi  porremoli 
II  cimier  de  le  corna  omnino  in  capite. 

The  Italian  commentators  explain  martello  as  meaning  "  rabbia, 
ira."  Gascoigne  has  translated  it  literally.  Cimier 0  is  the  crest  of  a 
helmet  :  Gascoigne  has  turned  this  into  a  reference  to  the  doctor's 
cap,  at  some  loss  of  the  force  of  the  allusion  to  "  horns." 

90,  14-15.  andifyoufinde  .  .  .  death  forit.  —  G. 

90,  26-27.  I  knowe  .  .  .  servaunt,  P  (V  is  almost  the 
same)  :  Ch'  io  sia  ghiotto  ti  confesso,  ma  ribaldo  no,  hai  torto  dirme 
cosi  che  servitor  ti  sono  —  It  will  be  seen  that  Gascoigne  has  missed 
the  force  of  Pasiphilo's  distinction  :  he  admits  that  he  is  a  glutton, 
but  not  that  he  is  a  rascal. 

90,  33.  I,  praesequar  .  .  .  elder.  This  is  Gascoigne's 
addition.  P.  Ah  Cleandro  pianamente.  V.  sempre  ve  ho  hauto 
in  reverentia.  Gascoigne  has  dealt  very  freely  with  this  quarrel 
scene,  taking  something  now  from  P,  now  from  V,  and  adding  a 
little  of  his  own. 

9I»  58-59-    call  me  cut.     P.  mutami  nome. 

92,  88.  Alas  .  .  .  S.  Anne.    P.  Me  ne  duole. 

92,  92.  a  good  barke.  P.  tre  buone  armate  Galee.  V.  tre 
Galee. 

92,  94.  from  thence.  P.  dalla  presa  citta  .  .  .  verso  Velona 
se  ritornava. 

93,  101-02.  I  thinke  not  past  five  yeeres  old.    P.  all- 

hora  fanciullo  de  cinque  sei  anni.     V.  al  mio  credere.  |  Non  dovea 
anchora  alii  cinque  anni  giungere. 


124  0OttfSi 

93,  115.  Beware  .  .  .  lavish.  P.  Noi  stiamo  freschi, 
aspetta  pure.    V.  Stiam  freschi. 

93>  1 15-16.  lavish,  was.  Between  1.  115  and  1.  116  V  in- 
terposes :    P/i.  non  ci  interrompere  |  Temerario.      P  and  G  omit. 

95,  161.  What  hee  goeth  about  ?   P  and  V.  che  gli  va 

a  tentone  ? 

95,  174.  eighteen  yeares  since.  P.  diceotto  anni.  V. 
venti.    All  this  is  from  P.    V  does  not  mention  Spiagia. 

95>  177-79-  He  hath  ...  in  it.  P.  Che  maraviglia 
se  te  la  detto,  che  tu  lo  sappi,  el  neo  ce  ha  pur  troppo,  cosi  ce 
havessi  egli.  V.  II  segno  v'  ha,  v'  havess'  egli  |  Cosi.  Gascoigne 
has  added  a  touch  of  coarseness  of  his  own. 

97,  15.  to  the  "weavers.  P.  a  casa  de  mona  Bionda  (V. 
Beritola). 

99.  Scena  septima.  The  previous  scene  (vi)  seems  to  be 
taken  from  P  :  the  arrangement  of  the  dialogue  at  the  beginning 
of  this  is  obviously  from  V. 

100,47.  Cleander?  what  to  doe?  This  interjection  by 
Damon  is  only  in  P.     (Come  Cleandro. ) 

101.  Scena  viii.  This  scene  is  a  very  loose  translation, 
or  rather  summary  of  V  5  two  short  speeches,  found  in  P  and 
not  in  V,  are  omitted,  and  the  speeches  found  in  both  P  and  V 
are  shortened.  **  I  shall  have  good  game  here  after  to  tel  this 
pleasant  story  another  day  in  mine  owne  countrey ' '  rests  upon 
what  Cleander  says  in  V.  The  first  half  of  the  scene  bears  only  a 
distant  resemblance  to  the  original. 

102,  24.  Carino.  Cleander's  newfound  son  is  evidently  pre- 
sent, although  his  name  is  not  mentioned  in  the  stage-direction  and 
he  takes  no  part  in  the  dialogue.  The  stage-direction  at  the  end  of 
the  scene  is,  as  in  other  cases,  added  by  Gascoigne  :  in  the  original, 
the  Scenese  and  Carino  apparently  withdrew. 

102.  Scena  ix.  This  scene  is  also  freely  rendered  from  V, 
with  some  slight  omissions.  In  P  there  is  no  division  between  this 
scene  and  the  next,  Cleander's  speech  running  right  on  with  the 
connecting  link.     '*  Lascerni  parlare  a  me  prima." 

103.  Polinesta.  [Later]  Nevola  and  other  Ser- 
vants. These  names  are  not  given  in  V,  or  in  P  at  the  head  of 
ix.    It  is  evident,  however,  from  the  text  that  Polinesta  is  pre- 


jliote0  125 

sent,  for  in  both   Damon'3  speech  ends  :    E   questa  h  la  nuora  tua. 
( V.  vostra  Nuora. ) 

104,  20-21.  I  prefer  my  whole  lands  in  dower  to 
your  daughter.    This  is  not  found  in  the  original. 

105,  52-56.  But  why  .  .  .  goe  in,  sir.  This  is  from  V; 
P  gives  a  slightly  different  arrangement  of  the  text,  Damon  mak- 
ing the  suggestion  *'  Andiamo  in  casa,"  and  Pasiphilo  falling  in 
with  it :  "  E  ben  detto,  in  casa,  in  casa."  Both  P  and  V  make  a 
new  scene  here,  consisting  of  the  last  half-dozen  lines.  Both  give 
the  final  speech,  not  to  Damon,  but  to  Pasiphilo. 

105,  61-64.  Marie  .  .  .  the  sample.  P.  Chiavateli  in 
culo.  V.  che  quanto  e  lungo  il  manico  |  Tu  te  li  chiavi,  ben  m' 
intendi  Nevola. 

106,  69.  Et  plauserunt.  —  G.  The  prose  versions  put 
"  Valete,"  V  simply  '» 11  fine." 


THE  TEXT 

In  addition  to  the  quarto  variants,  all  the  MS.  readings  of 
Jocasta  are  here  printed  for  the  first  time.  This  "interesting  dra- 
matic relic"  appears  to  date  back  to  1568,  and  was  the  property 
of  Roger,  second  baron  North,  whose  autograph  may  be  seen  on 
the  title,  here  reproduced  in  facsimile  ;  it  afterwards  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  Earls  of  Guilford,  then  into  the  library  of  the  late 
Thomas  Corser,  and  finally  into  the  MSS.  Department  of  the  Brit- 
ish Museum.  For  the  text  of  the  Italian  original,  that  published 
in  1809  by  the  Societa  Tipografica  de'  Classici  Italian!  has  been 
adopted,  with  such  slight  changes  as  were  necessary  to  make  it  a 
faithful  reprint  of  the  first  Aldine  edition  of  1549,  in  octavo  (O) 
—  the  one  the  English  translators  seem  to  have  used.  Thus,  in  11, 
i,  388,  where  the  edition  of  1549  reads  egualita  and  that  of  1560 
in  duodecimo  (D)  equita,  the  English  translation  reads  Equalitie. 
Line  1 16  of  iv,  i,  which  is  omitted  from  O,  is  also  omitted  from 
the  English  translation. 


^l^VA 


■-/. 


^^^^ 


GI OC AST A 


T  R  A  G  E  D  I  A 


D  I 


M.  LODOVICO  DOLCE. 


JOCASTA: 

A  Tragedie  written  in 

Greeke  by  Euripides^  translated 

and  digested  into  Acte  by  George  Gas- 

coygne  and  Francis  Kinwelmershe 

of  Grayes  Inne, 

and  there  by  them  presented, 

1566. 

8  1^66,    Q3,  An.  1566. 


The  Argument  of  the  Tragedie. 

To  scourge  the  cryme  of  wicked  Laius^ 

And  wrecke  the  foule  incest  of  Oedipus., 

The  angry  Gods  styrred  up  theyr  sonnes.,  by  strife 

IVtth  blades  embrewed  to  reave  eache  others  life  : 

The  wife.,  the  mother.,  and  the  concubyne.,  5 

{IVhose  fear  e full  hart  foredrad  theyr  fat  all  fine  ^ 

Hir  sonnes  thus  dead.,  disdayneth  longer  lyfe., 

And  slayes  hir  self  with  selfsame  bloudy  knyfe  : 

The  daughter  she.,  surprisde  with  childish  dreade 

(That  durst  not  dye')  a  lothsome  lyfe  doth  leade.,  lo 

Tet  rather  chose  to  guide  hir  banisht  sire'., 

Than  cruell  Creon  should  have  his  desire. 

Creon  is  King.,  the  '^type  of  Tyranny.,  *  Fygure. 

And  Oedipus.,  myrrour  of  misery. 

Fortunatus  Infcelix. 


3   theyr.    MS.,  his.  4  blades.    MS.,  blade. 

5    The   .    .    .   the  .    .    .   the.    MS.,  his   ...   his   ..    .  his. 

13  h  King.,  the.   MS.,  the  king  ys. 

*   Fygure.   MS.  and  Qi  omit  this  and  all  subsequent  side-notes. 

15    Fortunatus  Infcelix.      MS.  omits. 


PERSONS  DELLA  'TRAGEBIA. 

Servo. 

GlOCASTA. 

Bailo. 

Antigone. 

CoRo  di  Donne  Tebane. 

polinice. 

Eteocle. 

Creonte. 

Meneceo. 

Tiresia. 

Manto. 

Sacerdote. 

Nuncio. 

Un  altro  Nuncio. 

Edipo. 

La  favola  e  rappresentata  in  Tebe. 
Giocasta  fa  11  prologo. 


17   Giocasta  .   .   .  prologo.    D  omits. 


The  names  of  the  Interloquutors. 

JocASTA,  the  Queene. 

Servus,  a  noble  man  of  the  Queenes  traine. 
Bailo,  governour  to  the  Queenes  sonnes. 
Antygone,  daughter  to  the  Queene. 
Chorus,  foure  Thebane  dames. 

POLLYNICES   & )  „  o       1       /^ 

„  y  sonnes  to  Oedipus  &  the  Queene. 

Eteocles,  J  ''' 

Creon,  the  Queenes  brother. 

Meneceus,  Sonne  to  Creon. 

Tyresias,  the  divine  priest. 

Manto,  the  daughter  of  Tyresias. 

Sacerdos,  the  sacrifycing  priest. 

NuNTii,  three  messangers  from  the  campe. 

Oedipus,  the  olde  king,  father  to  Eteocles  and  Pollynices,  Sonne 

and  husbande  to  Jocasta  the  Queene. 

The  Tragedie  presented  as  it  were 
m  Thebes. 


16-17    ^^*  •    •    •    Thebes.    MS.  and  Qi,  The  tragedie  represented 
in  Thebes. 


^  The  order  of  the  dumme 
shewes 

and  Musickes  before  every  Acte. 

Firste,  before  the  beginning  of  the  first  Acte, 
did  sounde  a  dolefull  and  straunge  noyse  of  viol- 
les,  cythren,  bandurion,  and  such  like,  during 
the  whiche  there  came  in  uppon  the  stage  a 
king  with  an  imperial  crown  uppon  his  head, 
very  richeley  apparelled :  a  scepter  in  his  righte 
hande,  a  mounde  with  a  crosse  in  his  lefte  hande, 
sitting  in  a  chariote  very  richely  furnished,  drawne 
in  by  foure  kinges  in  their  dublettes  and  hosen, 
with  crownes  also  upon  their  heades,  represent- 
ing unto  us  ambition,  by  the  hystorie  of  Sesos- 
tres,  king  of  Egypt,  who  beeing  in  his  time  and 
reigne  a  mightie  conquerour,  yet  not  content 
to  have  subdued  many  princes,  and  taken  from 
them  their  kingdomes  and  dominions,  did  in  like 
maner  cause  those  kinges  whome  he  had  so  over- 
come, to  draw  in  his  chariote  like  beastes  and 
oxen,  thereby  to   content  his  unbrideled  ambi- 

6  righte.    MS.  omits. 


turtle  order  of  tlje  oumme  ^tjetoes;    135 

tious  desire.    After  he  had  beene  drawne  twyce 
about  the  stage,  and  retyred,  the  musicke  ceased,  20 
and  Jocasta  the  Queene  issued  out  of  hir  house, 
beginning  the  firste  Acte,  as  followeth.    Jocasta 
the  Queene  issueth  out  of  hir  pallace,  before  hir 
twelve    Gentlemen,  following    after    hir    eight 
Gentlewomen,  whereof  foure  be  the  Chorus  that  25 
remayne  on  the  stage  after  hir  departure.  At  hir 
entrance  the  trumpettes  sounded,  and  after  she 
had  gone   once  about  the  stage,  she  turneth  to 
one  of  hir  most  trustie  and  esteemed  servaunts, 
and  unto  him  she  discloseth  hir  griefe,  as   fol-  30 
oweth. 

24   Gentlemen.    MS.  and  Ql  add,  'very  bravely  appareled. 


(Btocajsta 

Atto  Primo. 

[SCENA    I.] 

Giocasta,  Servo, 

Giocasta,  Caro  gia  del  mio  padre  antico  servo, 
Benche  nota  ti  sia  1'  istoria  a  pieno 
De'  miei  gravi  dolor,  de'  miei  martiri; 
Pur,  dair  alto  e  real  stato  di  prima 
Veggendomi  condotta  a  tal  bassezza,  S 

Che  '1  mio  proprio  figliuol  sdegna  ascoltarmi, 
Ne  tengo  di  Reina  altro,  che  '1  nome, 
E  veggo  la  cittade,  e  '1  sangue  mio 
L'  arme  pigliar  contro  '1  suo  stesso  sangue; 
Perche  si  sfoga  ragionando  il  core;  lo 

lo  ti  vo'  raccontar  quel  ch'  e  palese : 
Perocch'  io  so  che  delle  pene  mie 
Pieta  sovente  a  lagrimar  ti  move, 
E,  pill  che  i  figli  miei,  ne  senti  afFanno. 


giocajsta 

The  first  Acte.    The  first  Scene, 
[^Before  the  Palace  of  Jocasta."^ 

Jocastay  Servus. 

VJocastaJ^    O  faithfull  servaunt  of  mine  aun- 
cient  sire, 
Though  unto  thee  sufficiently  be  knowne 
The  whole  discourse  of  my  recurelesse  griefe 
By  seing  me  from  princes  royall  state 
Thus  basely  brought  into  so  great  contempt 
As  mine  own  sonnes  repine  to  heare  my  plaint, 
Now  of  a  queene  but  barely  bearing  name, 
Seying  this  towne,  seing  my  fleshe  and  bloude. 
Against  it  selfe  to  levie  threatning  armes, 
(Whereof  to  talke  my  heart  it  rendes  in  twaine) 
Yet  once  againe  I  must  to  thee  recompte 
The  wailefull  thing  that  is  already  spred, 
Bicause  I  know  that  pitie  will  compell 
Thy  tender  hart  more  than  my  natural!  childe 

Before  the  Palace.      The  scene  remains  unchanged  throughout 
the  play. 


138  €>iocasfta  [acti 

Servo.   Reina,  come  me  non  vinse  alcuno  15 

In  servir  fedelmente  il  mio  Signore; 
Cosi  i'  credo  che  alcuno  in  amar  voi 
De'  figli  vostri  non  mi  passa  avanti. 
Questo  conviensi  agli  obblighi  ch'  io  tengo 
Non  meno  a  voi,  ch'  io  gia  tenessi  a  lui:  20 

Che,  se  gli  obblighi  miei  sono  infiniti, 
Infinito  esser  deve  anco  1'  amore: 
E,  se  piacesse  ai  Dii  che  questa  vita 
Spender  potessi  a  beneficio  vostro, 
Non  rifiutate  voi  di  adoperarla,  25 

Acciocche  in  questa  mia  gia  stanca  etade 
Lieto  e  contento  all'  altra  vita  io  passi 
Di  non  avermi  in  alcun  tempo  mostro 
A  si  degni  Signori  ingrato  servo. 

Gio.  Tu  sai  quanta  vaghezza  ebbe  mio  padre  30 
Di  legarmi  con  nodo  di  mogliera 
A  Laio  Re  dell'  infelice  Tebe; 
Ch'  infelice  ben  e  la  citta  nostra : 
E  sai  siccome  il  mio  novello  sposo, 
BramQSo  di  saper  quel  ch'  era  occulto,  35 


Scene!.]  ^OtdiSt^  1 39 

With    ruthfull    teares   to    mone    my   mourning 

case.  15 

Servus.   My   gracious    Queene,    as    no    man 

might  surmount 
The  constant  faith  I  beare  my  sovraine  lorde, 
So  doe  I  thinke,  for  love  and  trustie  zeale, 
No  Sonne  you  have  doth  owe  you  more  than  I : 
For  hereunto  I  am  by  dutie  bounde  20 

With  service  meete  no  lesse  to  honor  you 
Than  that  renoumed  prince  your  deere  father. 
And  as  my  duties  be  most  infinite, 
So  infinite  must  also  be  my  love  : 
Then,  if  my  life  or  spending  of  my  bloude  25 

May  be  employde  to  doe  your  highnesse  good, 
Commaunde  (O  Queene),  commaund   this  car- 

casse  here. 
In  spite  of  death,  to  satisfie  thy  will ; 
So,  though  I  die,  yet  shall  my  willing  ghost 
Contentedly  forsake  this  withered  corps  30 

For  joy  to  thinke  I  never  shewde  my  selfe 
Ingrateful  once  to  such  a  worthy  queene. 

yoc.  Thou   knowst    what   care   my    carefull 

father  tooke 
In  wedlockes  sacred  state  to  settle  me 
With  Laius,  king  of  this  unhappie  Thebs  35 

That  most  unhappie  now  our  Citie  is  : 
Thou  knowst  how  he,  desirous  still  to  searche 
The  hidden  secrets  of  supernall  powers, 


140  ^iocasfta  [act  i. 

Ricorse  agli  Indovini,  e  intender  volse, 
Quando  di  me  nascesse  alcun  figliuolo, 
Qual  di  lui  fosse  la  futura  sorte. 
Onde,  avendo  risposta  amara  et  aspra, 
Che  dal  proprio  figliuol  sarebbe  ucciso, 
Cerco  il  misero  Re  (ma  cerco  invano) 
Di  fuggir  quel  che  non  potea  fuggirsi. 
Quinci,  sbandita  ogni  pieta  natia, 
Poiche  '1  peso  meschin  di  questo  ventre 
Nella  luce  mortal  aperse  gli  occhi, 
Commise  a  un  servo  suo  piii  d'  altri  fido 
Che  lo  portasse  entro  una  selva  oscura, 
E  lasciasse  il  figliuol  cibo  alle  Fere. 

Ser,  Infelice  bambin,  nato  in  mal  punto. 

Gio.   II  servo,  insieme  obbediente,  e  pio, 
Quel  pargoletto  a  un'  arbore  sospese 
Per  li  teneri  piedi  alto  da  terra, 
Con  acuto  coltel  forando  quelli; 
Indi  per  dentro  alle  ferite  d'  ambi 
Di  vimini  ponendo  intorno  avvolti 
Al  picciol  peso  assai  forte  sostegno, 
Cosi  lascio  '1  fanciullo  appena  nato ; 
II  qual  morir  dovea  fra  poco  d'  ora, 
Se  '1  fato,  che  per  mal  di  tutti  noi 


Scene!.]  ^lOCaS^ta  I4I 

Unto  divines  did  make  his  ofte  recourse, 
Of  them  to  learne  when  he  should  have  a  Sonne  4° 
That  in  his  realme  might  after  him  succeede  : 
Of  whom  receiving  answere  sharpe  and  sowre, 
That  his  owne  sonne  should  worke  his  wailful! 

ende, 
The    wretched  king  (though   all   in  vayne)  did 

seeke 
For  to  eschew  that  could  not  be  eschewed  :  45 

And  so,  forgetting  lawes  of  natures  love. 
No  sooner   had   this   paynfull  wombe   brought 

foorth 
His  eldest  sonne  to  this  desired  light. 
But  straight  he  charged  a  trustie  man  of  his 
To  beare  the  childe  into  a  desert  wood,  50 

And  leave  it  there  for  tigers  to  devoure. 

Ser.   O  lucklesse  babe,  begot  in  wofull  houre ! 
Joe.   His  servant,  thus  obedient  to  his  best. 
Up  by  the  heeles  did  hang  this  faultlesse  impe, 
And  percing  with  a  knife  his  tender  feete,  55 

Through  both  the  wounds  did  drawe  the  slender 

twigs 
Which,  being  bound  about  his  feeble  limmes, 
Were  strong  inough  to  holde  the  little  soule. 
Thus  did  he  leave  this  infant  scarcely  borne, 
That   in   short   time  must   needes  have  lost  his 

Hfe,  60 

If  destenie  (that  for  our  greater  greefes 


142  €>ioca0ta  [act  i. 

Avea  disposto  conservarlo  in  vita,  60 

Non  mandava  al  meschin  presto  soccorso. 

Questo  fu,  ch'  un  pastor,  quindi  passando, 

Pietosamente  lo  campo  da  morte, 

Recollo  al  tetto,  e  alia  sua  moglie  il  diede. 

Or  odi  com'  il  Ciel  la  strada  aperse  65 

Alia  morte  di  Laio,  e  alle  mie  pene. 

Ser.   Ben  s'  e  veduto,  e  si  dimostra  ogn'  ora 
Che  contra  '1  Cielo  e  in  darno  umana  forza. 

Gio.  Era  a  que'  di  la  moglie  di  Polibo, 
Re  di  Corinto,  in  grave  affanno  involta,  70 

Perocche  non  potea  ricever  prole. 
II  cortese  pastor  le  fece  dono 
Del  mio  figliuol,  ch'  a  lei  fu  caro  molto ; 
Parte  per  esser  ben  formato  e  hello 
Parte,  che  '1  giudico  di  Re  figliuolo.  75 

Crehhe  il  fanciullo,  e  fu  creduto  figlio 
Di  Poliho  molt'  anni,  in  fin  ch'  Edipo 
(Che  tale  al  mio  figliuol  fu  posto  nome) 


Scene  I]  3!0Cafi^ta  143 

Decreede  before  to  keep  it  stille  alive) 
Had  not  unto  this  childe  sent  present  helpe  : 
For  so  it  chaunst,  a  shepheard  passing  by, 
With  pitie  movde,  did  stay  his  giltlesse  death  :      65 
He  tooke  him  home,  and  gave  him  to  his  wife. 
With  homelie  fare  to  feede  and  foster  up  : 
Now   harken   how  the  heavens  have   wrought 

the  way 
To  Laius  death  and  to  mine  owne  decay. 

Ser.    "  Experience    proves,    and    daily    is    it 

seene,  70 

In  vaine    (too  vaine)  man  strives  against    the 

heavens." 
Joe.  Not    farre  fro   thence,  the   mightie   Po- 

libus, 
Of  Corinth  king,  did  keepe  his  princely  court. 
Unto  whose  wofull  wife  (lamenting  muche 
Shee  had  no  ofspring  by  hir  noble  pheere)  75 

The  curteous  shepherd  gave  my  little  sonne : 
Which  gratefull  gift  the  Queene  did  so  accept 
As  nothing  seemde  more  precious  in  hir  sight : 
Partly,  for  that  its  faitures  were  so  fine, 
Partly,  for  that  he  was  so  beautifull,  80 

And  partly,  for  bicause  his  comely  grace 
Gave  great  suspicion  of  his  royall  bloude. 
The  infant  grewe,  and  many  yeares  was  demde 
Polibus  sonne,  till  time  that  Oedipus 
(For  so  he  named  was)  did  understande  8^ 


144  ^ioca0ta  [acti. 

Intese  che  quel  Re  non  gli  era  padre  ; 

Onde  lascio  Corinto,  e  '1  pie  rivolse  80 

A  ricercar  della  sua  stirpe  indizio. 

Ma  pervenuto  in  Focide,  ebbe  avviso 

Dair  Oracol  divin  noioso  e  tristo; 

Che  troverebbe,  e  ucciderebbe  il  padre, 

E  diverria  della  sua  madre  sposo.  85 

Ser.   Ben  fu  crudo  pianeta,  e  fera  Stella 
Che  destino  questo  peccato  orrendo. 

Gio.   Dunque  cerco,  pien  di  spavento,  Edipo 
Di  schifar  quel  che  disponea  la  sorte  : 
Ma,  mentre  che  fuggir  cercava  il  male ;  90 

Condotto  dair  iniqua  sua  ventura, 
Venne  in  quel  che  fuggiva  ad  incontrarsi. 
Era  in  Focide  Laio,  e  terminava 
Di  discordia  civil  nuove  contese 
Nate  tra  quella  gente  :   onde  il  mio  figlio,  95 

Prestando  aita  alia  contraria  parte, 
Uccise,  incauto,  V  infelice  padre : 
Cos!  i  celesti  Nuncii,  e  parimente 
Le  profetiche  voci  ebbero  efFetto. 
Sol  rimaneva  ad  adempir  la  sorte  100 

Delia  misera  madre  :   Oime,  ch  io  sento 


Scene!.]  ^OtU^ttl  145 

That  Polibus  was  not  his  sire  in  deede, 
Whereby,  forsaking  frendes  and  countrie  there, 
He  did  returne  to  seeke  his  native  stocke : 
And,  being  come  into  Phocides  lande, 
Toke  notice  of  the  cursed  oracle,  9° 

How  first  he  shoulde  his  father  doe  to  death, 
And  then  become  his  mothers  wedded  mate. 
Ser.   O  fierce  aspect  of  cruell  planets  all. 
That  can  decree  such  seas  of  heynous  faultes. 
Joe.  Then   Oedipus,  fraight  full  of  chilling 

feare,  95 

By  all  meanes  sought  t'  avoyde  this  furious  fate ; 
But  whiles  he   weende  to  shunne  the  shameful 

deede, 
Unluckly  guided  by  his  owne  mishappe. 
He  fell  into  the  snare  that  most  he  feared. 
For  loe,  in  Phocides  did  Laius  lye,  loo 

To  ende  the  broyles  that  civill  discorde  then 
Had  raysed  up  in  that  unquiet  lande. 
By  meanes  whereof  my  wofull  Oedipus, 
Affording  ayde  unto  the  other  side, 
With  murdring  blade  unwares  his  father  slewe.  105 
Thus  heavenly  doome,  thus   fate,  thus   powers 

divine. 
Thus  wicked  reade  of  prophets,  tooke  effect  : 
Now  onely  restes  to  ende  the  bitter  happe 
Of  me  —  of  me,  his  miserable  mother. 

89   Phocides.    Hazlitt,  Phocian.  95  fraight.    Q3,  fraught. 


146  ^iocas?ta  [acti. 

Tutto  dentro  del  cor  gelarsi  il  sangue. 

Edipo,  fatto  V  omicidio  strano, 

Spinto  dal  suo  destin,  sen  venne  in  Tebe  ; 

Dove  con  molta  gloria  in  un  momento  105 

Fu  incoronato  Re  dal  popol  tutto 

Per  la  vittoria  che  del  Mostro  ottenne, 

Che  distrugger  solea  questo  paese. 

Cos'  io  (chi  udi  giammai  piii  orribil  cosa  ?) 

Del  mio  proprio  figliuol  divenni  moglie.  no 

Ser.  Non  so  perche  non  s'  ascondesse  il  Sole, 
Per  non  veder  si  abbominoso  effetto. 

Gio.  Cosi  di  quel  che  del  mio  ventre  nacque 
Io  n*  ebbi  (oime  infelice)  due  figliuoli, 
Et  altrettante  figlie.    Ma  dappoi  115 

Che  si  scoprir  le  scellerate  nozze ; 
Allor,  pien  d'  ira,  e  addolorato  Edipo, 
Con  le  sue  proprie  man  si  trasse  gli  occhi, 
In  se  crudel,  per  non  veder  piii  luce. 

Ser.  Com'  esser  puo  che,  avendo  conosciuto  120 
Si  gran  peccato,  egli  restasse  in  vita  ? 


Scene  I.]  3[lOCa0ta  147 

Alas,  how  colde  I  feele  the  quaking  bloud  no 

Passe  too  and  fro  within  my  trembling  brest  : 
Oedipus,  when  this  bloudy  deede  was  done, 
Forst  foorth  by  fatall  doome,  to  Thebes  came, 
Where  as  full  soone  with  glory  he  atchievde 
The  crowne  and  scepter  of  this  noble  lande        115 
By  conquering  Sphinx,  that  cruell  monster,  loe ! 
That  earst  destroyde  this  goodly  flouring  soyle  : 
And  thus  did  I  (O  hatefull  thing  to  heare) 
To  my  owne  sonne  become  a  wretched  wife. 

Ser.  No  mervayle,  though  the  golden  sunne 

withdrew  120 

His  glittering  beames  from  suche  a  sinfull  facte. 

Joe.  And    so    by  him   that    from   this   belly 
sprang, 
I  brought  to  hght  (O  cursed  that  I  am  !) 
Aswell  two  sonnes  as  daughters  also  twaine  : 
But  when  this  monstrous  mariage  was  disclosde,i25 
So  fore  began  the  rage  of  boyling  wrath 
To  swell  within  the  furious  brest  of  him, 
As  he  him  selfe,  by  stresse  of  his  owne  nayles, 
Out  of  his  head  did  teare  his  griefull  eyne. 
Unworthy  more  to  see  the  shining  light.  ,^q 

Ser.   How  could  it  be  that,  knowing  he  had 
done 
So  foule  a  blot,  he  would  remayne  alive  ? 

llj  Jiouring.    Q3,  flourishing.  118    /.    Q 3  omits. 

128  As.    MS.,  That. 


148  €iioca0ta  [act  i. 

Gio,  Non  pecca  V  uom  che,  non  sapendo,  in- 
corre 
In  alcun  mal,  da  cui  fuggir  non  puote : 
Et  egli  a  maggior  suo  danno  e  cordoglio, 
Et  a  pena  maggior  la  vita  serba :  laS 

Ch'  a'  miseri  la  vita  apporta  noia, 
E  morte  e  fin  delle  miserie  umane. 

Ser.   Misera  ben  sovra  ogni  donna  sete ; 
Tante  son  le  cagion  de'  vostri  mali. 

Gio.  Ecco  perche  del  mal  concetto  seme         130 
Non  si  sentisse  il  miser  cieco  allegro  : 
I  due  figliuol,  da  crudelta  sospinti, 
A  perpetua  prigion  dannaro  il  padre : 
La  've,  in  oscure  tenebre  sepolto, 
Vive  dolente  e  disperata  vita,  13S 

Sempre  maledicendo  ambi  i  figliuoli, 
E  pregando  le  furie  empie  d'  Inferno 
Che  spirin  tal  velen  nei  petti  loro, 
Che  questo  e  quel  contro  se  stesso  s'  armi ; 


Scene  I.]  3|OCa0ta  149 

'Joe.  "  So  deepely  faulteth  none,  the  which 
unwares 
Doth  fall  into  the  crime  he  can  not  shunne  :  " 
And  he  (alas  !)  unto  his  greater  greefe  135 

Prolongs  the  date  of  his  accursed  dayes, 
Knowing  that  life  doth  more  and  more  increase 
The  cruel  plages  of  his  detested  gilte, 
"  Where  stroke  of  griefly  death  dothe   set  an 

ende 
Unto  the  pangs  of  mans  increasing  payne."         140 

Ser,   Of  others  all,  moste   cause   have  we  to 
mone 
Thy  wofull  smarte  (O  miserable  Queene), 
Such  and  so  many  are  thy  greevous  harmes. 

Joe.  Now  to  the  ende  this  blinde  outrageous 
fire 
Should  reape  no  joye  of  his  unnaturall  fruite,      145 
His   wretched   sons,   prickt    foorth    by    furious 

spight. 
Adjudge  their  father  to  perpetuall  prison  : 
There,  buried  in  the  depthe  of  dungeon  darke, 
Alas  !   he  leades  his  discontented  life, 
Accursing  still  his  stony  harted  sonnes,  150 

And  wishing  all  th'infernall  sprites  of  hell 
To  breathe  suche  poysned  hate  into  their  brestes 
As  eche  with  other  fall  to  bloudy  warres. 
And  so  with  pricking  poynt  of  piercing  blade 

144  outrageous.     MS.,  outraging. 


150  ^iocasfta  [Acti. 

E  s'  aprano  le  vene,  e  del  lor  sangue  140 

Tingano  insieme  le  fraterne  mani 
Tanto,  che  morto  V  un  e  1'  altro  cada, 
E  ne  vadano  a  un  tempo  ai  Regni  stigi. 

Ser.   Questo,  per  ben  di  voi  lo  tolga  Dio. 

Gio.   Ond'  essi,  per  fuggir  V  empie  biasteme,  145 
E  i  fieri  voti  dell'  irato  padre, 
Insieme  convenir  che  per  un  anno 
Eteocle,  il  maggior  fratello,  in  Tebe 
Tenesse  il  seggio  e  la  real  corona, 
E  in  esilio  n'  andasse  Polinice ;  150 

II  qual  finito,  a  Polinice  poi 
Eteocle  cedesse  il  manto  ;  e  sempre 
L'  un  succedendo  all'  altro,  in  cotal  guisa 
II  Dominio  servisse  ad  ambidoi. 

Ser.  Ahi,  che  1'  ambizion  non  puo  frenarsi.     155 

Gio.  Poiche  Eteocle  fu  nel  seggio  posto, 
Ebbrio  della  dolcezza,  e  del  diletto 
Di  regnar  solo,  il  suo  fratello  escluse 
Dallo  scettro  non  pur  debito  a  lui. 
Ma  dal  natio  terren.    Che  far  dovea  160 

Dunque  il  mio  figlio  dal  fratel  tradito  ? 
Egli,  dolente,  si  condusse  in  Argo  j 


Scene!.]  3|0raS^ta  I5I 

To  rippe  their  bowels  out,  that  eche  of  them      155 
With  others  bloud  might  strayne  his  giltie  hands, 
And  bothe  at  once,  by  stroke  of  speedie  death, 
Be  foorthwith  throwne  into  the  Stigian  lake. 

Ser.   The  mightie  Gods   prevent   so   fowle  a 
deede  ! 

Joe.  They,  to  avoyde  the  wicked  blasphemies  160 
And  sinfull  prayer  of  their  angrie  sire. 
Agreed  thus  :   that  of  this  noble  realme, 
Untill  the  course  of  one  ful  yere  was  runne, 
Eteocles  should  sway  the  kingly  mace. 
And  Polynice  as  exul  should  departe,  165 

Till  time  expyrde  :   and  then  to  Polynice 
Eteocles  should  yeelde  the  scepter  up : 
Thus  yere  by  yere  the  one  succeeding  other. 
This  royall  crowne  should  unto  bothe  remayne. 

Ser.   Oh,    thunbridled    mindes    of  ambicious 
men  !  170 

Joe.   Et  [e]  ocles,  thus  plast  in  princely  seate, 
Drunke  with  the  sugred  taste  of  kingly  raigne, 
Not  onely  shut  his  brother  from  the  crowne. 
But  also  from  his  native  country  soyle. 
Alas,  poore  Polynice  !   what  might  he  doe,  175 

Unjustly  by  his  brother  thus  betrayed  ? 
To  Argos  he  with  sad  and  heavie  cheere 
Forthwith  convayde  him  selfe,on  whom  at  length 

156  strayne.    MS.,  stain.    Qi,  stayne. 
171    Eteocles.    MS.  and  Q2,  Etocles. 


152  6iocasfta  [acti. 

Dove  tanto  gli  arrise  la  fortuna, 

Ch'  ivi  amicizia,  e  affinita  contrasse 

Col  Re  d'  Argivi,  il  qual  si  chiama  Adrasto ;       165 

Che,  per  ripor  il  genero  nel  Regno, 

Ha  posto  assedio  alia  citta  di  Tebe. 

Quinci  e  V  estremo  mal  dei  miei  gran  mail  : 

Che  vinca  qual  si  vuol  de'  miei  figliuoli. 

La  vittoria  a  me  fia  d'  angoscia  e  pianto  :  170 

E  temo,  oime,  come  in  tai  guerre  accade, 

Che  d'  uno,  o  d'  ambidoi  la  morte  segua. 

Onde,  perche  non  intervenga  questo. 

Come  pietosa  e  sconsolata  madre, 

Che  non  pud  non  amar  sempre  i  figliuoli,  175 

E  procurar  di  quei  T  utile  e  '1  bene  j 

Ho  fatto  si  con  le  preghiere  mie, 

Ch'  oggi,  che  si  dovea  dar  la  battaglia 

Alia  cittade,  o  che  le  genti  nostre 

Uscissero  di  fuori  alia  campagna,  180 

Tanto  di  tregua  conceduto  m'  hanno 

I  due  fratelli,  anzi  nimici  fieri, 

Ch'  io  tenti,  pria  che  tra  lor  movan  V  armi, 

S'  acquetar  posso  le  discordie  loro, 

Assegnandomi  a  questo  un'  ora  sola.  185 

Ser.  Picciolo  spazio  a  cosi  gran  disegno. 

Gio.  E  poco  fa  ch'  un  mio  fidato  amico 
E  tornato  di  campo,  et  hammi  detto 


Scene!.]  3|OCa0ta  153 

With  fauning  face  good  fortune  smyled  so, 

As  with  Adrastus,  king  of  Argiv^es  there,  i8o 

He  founde  such  favour  and  affinitie 

As  (to  restore  my  sonne  unto  his  raigne) 

He  hath  besiedge  this  noble  citie  Thebes, 

And  hence  proceedes  my  most  extreme  annoye  : 

For,  of  my  sonnes  who  ever  doe  prevaile,  185 

The  victorie  will  turne  unto  my  griefe. 

Alas  !   I  feare  (such  is  the  chaunce  of  warre) 

That  one  or  both  shall  purchase  death  therby. 

Wherfore  to  shunne  the  worst  that  may  befall. 

Though  comfortlesse,  yet  as  a  pitifull  mother     190 

Whom  nature  binds  to  love  hir  loving  sonnes. 

And  to  provide  the  best  for  their  availe, 

I  have  thought  good  by  prayers  to  entreate 

The  two  brethren,  nay  rather  cruel  foes, 

A  while  to  stale  their  fierce  and  furious  fight,     195 

Till  I  have  tried  by  meanes  for  to  apease 

The  swelling  wrath  of  their  outraging  willes ; 

And  so  with  much  to  doe  at  my  request 

They  have  forborne  unto  this  onely  houre. 

Ser,   Small    space,    [God]    wot,   to    stint   so 
great  a  strife.  200 

Joe.  And  even  right  now  a  trustie  man  of 
mine 
Returned  from  the  campe,  enforming  me 

183   /^-fs/eJ^e.  MS.,  beseedgde.    Qi,  besedge.    Q3,  besiegde. 
200  God  ivot.    MS.,  Qi,  G3,  god  wot.    Q2,  good  wot. 


154  €>WCaS?ta  [Act  I. 

Che  sara  tosto  in  Tebe  Polinice. 

Or  delle  pene  mie  la  istoria  e  questa.  190 

E  perche  in  vane  e  inutili  querele 

Non  fa  bisogno  ch'  io  consumi  il  tempo ; 

Faro  qui  fine  alle  parole,  poi 

Che  '1  mio  misero  cuor  no  '1  fa  alia  doglia. 

E  ti  prego  che  vadi  ad  Eteocle,  195 

E  lui  da  parte  mia  supplica  e  prega 

Ch*  ora,  per  attenermi  alia  promessa, 

Se  ne  venga  al  palazzo.    Io  so  ch'  ei  t'  ama 

Piu  ch'  uom  di  Tebe,  e  a  tue  parole  porge 

(II  che  t'  e  noto)  volentieri  orecchia.  200 

Ser.   Reina,  poich'  a  tal  officio  vuole 
Prestezza ;  quanto  il  vostro  ben  m'  e  caro 
Io  mi  serbo  a  mostrar  piij  con  V  effetto, 
Che  mostrar  non  saprei  con  le  parole. 

Gio.  Io  ritorno  di  dentro  ;  e  in  questo  mezzo  205 
Preghero  il  sommo  Dio  ch'  ei  mi  consoli 
Per  sua  pieta;  ch'  io  misera  no  '1  merto. 


Scene  I]  31OCa0ta  155 

That  Polynice  will  straight  to  Thebes  come ; 
Thus  of  my  woe  this  is  the  wailefull  summe. 
And  for  bycause  in  vaine  and  bootelesse  plaintczos 
I  have  small  neede  to  spend  this  litle  time, 
Here  will  I  cease  in  words  more  to  bewray 
The  restlesse  state  of  my  afflicted  minde, 
Desiring  thee  thou  goe  to  Eteocles, 
Hartly  on  my  behalf  beseching  him  210 

That  out  of  hand,  according  to  his  promise, 
He  will  vouchsafe  to  come  unto  my  courte  : 
I  know  he  loves  thee  well,  and  to  thy  wordes 
I  thinke  thou  knowst  he  will  give  willing  eare. 

Ser.  O  noble  Queene,  sith  unto  such  afFayres2i5 
My  spedie  diligence  is  requisite, 
I  will  applie  effectually  to  doe 
What  so  your  highnesse  hath  commaunded  me. 

Joe.  I   will  goe  in,  and  pray  the  gods  ther- 
while 
With  tender  pitie  to  appease  my  griefe.  220 

Jocasta  goeth  off  the  stage  into  hir  pallace, 
hirfoure  handmaides  follow  hir ^  the  four e 
Chorus  also  follow  hir  to  the  gates  of  hir 
pallace.  After y  camming  on  the  stage y  take 
their  place,  where  they  continue  to  the 
end  of  the  tragedie. 


156  ^iocasfta  [acti. 


[SCENA    2.] 

Servo.  Color  che  i  seggi  e  le  reali  altezze 
Ammiran  tanto  veggono  con  1'  occhio 
L'  adombrato  splendor  ch'  appar  di  fuori, 
Scettri,  gemme,  corone,  aurati  panni; 
Ma  non  veggon  dappoi  con  1'  intelletto 
Le  penose  fatiche,  e  i  gravi  afFanni, 
Le  cure,  e  le  molestie,  a  mille  a  mille, 
Che  di  dentro  celate  e  ascose  stanno. 


Scene  II.]  3f!OCa0ta  157 

[SCENA    2.] 

Servus  solus. 

\_Servus^    "  The  simple  man,  whose  mervalle 

is  so  great 
At  stately  courts  and  princes  regall  seate, 
With  gasing  eye  but  onely  doth  regarde 
The  golden  glosse  that  outwardly  appeares, 
The  crownes  bedeckt  with  pearle  and  precious 

stones,  5 

The    riche    attire    imbost   with    beaten        Thecoune 

golde,  lively 

The    glittering    mace,   the    pompe    of        parted. 

swarming  traine. 
The    mightie    halles     heapt    full    of    flattering 

frendes, 
The  chambers  huge,  the  goodly  gorgeous  beddes. 
The  gilted  roofes  embowde  with  curious  worke,   lo 
The  faces  sweete  of  fine  disdayning  dames, 
The  vaine  suppose  of  wanton  raigne  at  luste  — 
But  never  viewes  with  eye  of  inward  thought 
The  painefull  toile,  the  great  and  grevous  cares, 
The  troubles  still,  the  newe  increasing  feares        15 
That  princes  nourish  in  their  jealous  brestes  : 
He  wayeth  not  the  charge  that  Jove  hath  laid 

9  chambers  huge.      MS.,  Ql,  huge  chambers. 
11  faces  siveete.      MS.,  Qi,  sweete  faces. 
15    The,  omitted  in  Q3. 


158  ^tOCaSfta  [Act  I. 

Non  san  che,  come  il  vento  e  le  saette 

Percuoton  sempre  le  maggiori  altezze,  10 

Cosi  lo  stral  della  fortuna  ingiusta 

Fere  piu  1'  uom,  quanto  piu  in  alto  il  trova. 

Ecco :   Edipo  pur  dianzi  era  Signore 

Di  noi  Tebani,  e  di  si  bel  domin  [i]  o 

Stringea  superbo,  et  allentava  il  freno,  15 

Et  era  formidabile  a  ciascuno : 

Ora,  siccome  prigioniero  afflitto, 

Privo  di  luce  in  fiero  career  chiuso, 

£  giunto  a  tal,  che  ha  in  odio  1'  esser  vivo. 

Quinci  i  figliuoli  hanno  rivolte  1'  armi  ^q 

L'  un  contra  1'  altro ;  e  la  citta  di  Tebe 

£  per  cader  (se  '1  Ciel  non  la  sostiene) 

Nel  grave  assedio  ond'  e  per  tutto  cinta. 

Ma,  nel  modo  ch'  al  di  la  notte  segue, 

Alia  felicita  va  dietro  il  pianto.  25 

14  dominio.    O,  D,  domino. 


Scene  II.]  31OCa0ta  159 

On   princes,   how   for   themselves   they   raigne 

not : 
He  weenes  the  law   must    stoope   to   princely 

will, 
But  princes  frame  their  noble  wills  to  lawe  :         20 
He  knoweth  not  that  as  the  boystrous  winde 
Doth  shake  the  toppes  of  highest-reared  towres. 
So  doth  the  force  of  frowarde  fortune  strike 
The  wight  that  highest  sits  in  haughtie  state." 
Lo,  Oedipus,  that  sometime  raigned  king  25 

Of    Thebane     soyle,    that     wonted     to     sup- 

presse 
The    mightest    prince,    and     kepe    him    under 

checke. 
That  fearefull  was  unto  his  forraine  foes. 
Now  like  a  poore  afflicted  prisoner. 
In  dungeon  darke  shut  up  from  cheerefull  light,  30 
In  every  part  so  plagued  with  annoy 
As  he  abhorrs  to  leade  a  longer  life ; 
By  meanes  wherof,  the  one  against  the  other. 
His    wrathfull    sonnes    have    planted    all    their 

force. 
And  Thebes  here,  this  auncient  worthy  towne,    35 
With  threatning  siege  girt  in  on  every  side. 
In  daunger  lyes  to  be  subverted  quite. 
If  helpe  of  hevenly  Jove  upholde  it  not. 
But  as  darke  night  succedes  the  shining  day. 
So  lowring  griefe  comes  after  pleasant  joy.  40 


l60  ^iOta^ta  [Act  I. 

Ora  a  quel  che  m'  ha  imposto  la  Reina 
AfFretto  il  pie,  che  forse  mov[o]  indarno. 

[ScENA  3.] 

Bailo  di  Polinice,  Antigone  Jjgliuola  di  Giocasta. 

Bailo.   Gentil  figlia  d*  Edipo,  e  pia  sorella 
Deir  infelice  giovane,  sbandito 
Dal  suo  fratel  delle  paterne  case ; 
A  cui  nei  puerili  e  tener'  anni 

Fui  (come  saper  del)  bailo  e  custode  j  5 

Esci,  poiche'  1  concede  la  Reina, 
E  fa  ch'  io  sappia  la  cagion  ch'  adduce 
Cosi  onesta  fanciulla  a  porre  il  piede 
Fuor  de'  secret!  suoi  piu  cari  alberghi 
Or  che  per  tutto  la  cittade  e  piena  10 

Di  soldati,  e  di  bellici  istrumenti ; 
Ne  viene  a  nostre  orecchie  altro  concento, 

27  mo'vo,    O,  D,  move. 


Scene  m]  JiOtUSitdi  l6l 

Well  now  the  charge  hir  highnesse  did  com- 

maund, 
I  must  fulfill,  though  haply  all  in  vaine. 

Servus  goeth  off  the  stage  by  the  gates  called 
Electrae.  Antygoney  attended  with  Hi 
gentlewomen  and  hir  governoufy  commeth 
out  of  the  Queene  hir  mothers  pallace. 

[SCENA  3.] 

Bailo^  Antigone. 

\Bailo.'\    O  gentle  daughter  of  King  Oedipus, 

0  sister  deare  to  that  unhappie  wight 
Whom  brothers  rage  hath  reaved  of  his  right, 
To  whom,  thou   knowst,  in  yong  and  tender 

yeares 

1  was  a  friend  and  faithfull  govenour, 

Come  forth,  sith  that  hir  grace  hath  graunted 

leave, 
And   let   me   knowe   what   cause   hath    moved 

nowe 
So  chaste  a  maide  to  set  hir  daintie  foote 
Over  the  thresholde  of  hir  secrete  lodge  ? 
Since  that  the  towne  is  furnishte  every  where 
With  men  of  armes  and  warlike  instrumentes, 
Unto  our  eares  there  commes  no  other  noyse, 

Servus  .    .    .  pallace.      In  this  and  subsequent  stage-directions, 
where  all  the  originals  read  gatesy  Hazlitt  substitutes  gate. 


1 62  ^ioca0ta  [acti. 

Ch'  annitrir  di  cavalli,  e  suon  di  trombe ; 

II  qual  par  che,  scorrendo  in  ogni  parte, 

Formi  con  roche  voci  sangue  e  morti.  15   \ 

Non  mostra  il  Sol  quel  lucido  splendore  \ 

Che  suol  mostrar,  quando  conduce  il  giorno  j 

E  le  misere  donne  or  vanno  insieme 

Per  la  mesta  Citta  cercando  tutti 

I  Tempi,  e  ai  Dii  porgendo  umilemente  20 

Onesti  voti,  e  afFettuosi  preghi. 

Antigone.  \J  amor  ch'  io   porto  a  Polinice  e 
solo 
Cagion  di  questo. 

Bail.  Hai  tu  figliuola,  forse 

Riparo  alcun  contra  lo  sdegno  e  1'  ira 
Che  giustamente  a'  nostri  danni  il  move,  25 

Per  racquistar,  poiche  ragion  non  vale. 
La  paterna  Citta  per  forza  d'  arme  ? 

Ant.  Deh,  Bailo,  potess'  io  col  proprio  sangue 
Far  questo  beneficio  a'  miei  fratelli ; 
Ch'  io  volentier  porrei  la  vita  mia  30 

Per  la  pace  e  union  di  questi  due. 
Or  che  far  non  si  puo  quel  ch'  io  vorrei, 
Un  ardente  desio  m'  infiamma  ogn'  ora 


Scene  m.]  '^OtUiStU  1 63 

But  sounde  of  trumpe  and  neigh  of  trampling 

stedes, 
Which,  running  up  and  downe  from  place  to 

place, 
With  hideous  cries  betoken  bloude  and  death  :      15 
The  biasing  sunne  ne  shineth  halfe  so  brighte 
As  it  was  wont  to  doe  at  dawne  of  day  : 
The   wretched    dames    throughout    the   wofull 

towne 
Together  clustring  to  the  temples  goe, 
Beseching  Jove,  by  way  of  humble  plainte,  20 

With  tender  ruthe  to  pitie  their  distresse. 

Antigone,  The   love    I    beare   to   my   sweete 

Polynice, 
My  deare  brother,  is  onely  cause  hereof. 

Bai.   Why,  daughter,  knowst  thou  any  rem- 

edie 
How  to  defend  thy  fathers  citie  here  25 

From  that  outrage  and  fierce  repyning  wrathe 
Which  he  against  it  justly  hath  conceived  ? 
An,   Oh  governour,  might  this  my  faultlesse 

bloude 
SufEse  to  stay  my  brethrens  dyre  debate. 
With  glad  content  I  coulde  afford  my  life  30 

Betwixte  them  both  to  plant  a  perfect  peace. 
But  since  (alas  !)  I  cannot  as  I  woulde, 
A  bote  desire  enflames  my  fervent  mind 

30  content.    MS.,  Qi,  consent. 


35    i 


164  6ioca0ta  [acti. 

Di  veder  Polinice  :   ond'  io  ti  prego 
Che  in  una  delle  torri  mi  conduchi 
Donde  si  veggon  le  nemiche  squadre  : 
Che,  purch'io  pasca  alquanto  gli  occhi  miei 
Delia  vista  del  caro  mio  fratello  ; 
S'  io  ne  morro  dappoi,  morro  contenta. 

Bail.  Real  figliuola,  la  pieta  che  serbi  40  ^ 

Verso  il  fratello  e  d'  ogni  lode  degna : 
Ma  brami  quel  che  non  si  puo  ottenere, 
Per  la  distanza  ch'  e  dalla  cittade 
Al  piano,  ove  T  esercito  e  accampato. 
Appresso,  non  convien  ch'  una  polcella  45 

Veder  si  lassi  in  luogo,  ove  fra  tanti 
Nuovi  soldati,  et  uomini  da  guerra 
E  il  buon  costume  e  1'  onesta  sbandita. 
Ma  rallegrati  pur,  che  il  tuo  desio 
Contento  fia  tra  poco  spazio  d'  ora  50 

Senza  disturbo  alcun,  senza  fatica  : 
Perocche  qui  fia  tosto  Polinice; 
Ch'  ivi  pur  dianzi  ad  invitarlo  fui, 
Posciache  me  '1  commise  la  Reina ; 
La  qual  pur  tenta  di  ridur  la  pace  55 

Fra  i  due  fratei ;  che  voglia  Dio  che  segua. 


Scene  III.]  3l0CaSfta  1 65 

To  have  a  sight  of  my  sweete  Polynice. 
Wherfore  (good  guide)  vouchsafe  to  guide  me  up  35 
Into  some  tower  about  this  hugie  court, 
From  whence  I  may  behold  our  enmies  campe, 
Therby  at  least  to  feede  my  hungry  eyes 
But  with  the  sight  of  my  beloved  brother : 
Then  if  I  die,  contented  shall  I  die.  40 

Bai.   O  princely  dame,  the  tender  care  thou 
takste 
Of  thy  deare  brother  deserveth  double  praise  : 
Yet  crav'st  thou  that  which  cannot  be  obtainde, 
By  reason  of  the  distance  from  the  towne 
Unto  the  plaine,  where  tharmie  lies  incampte :     45 
And,  furthermore,  besemeth  not  a  maide 
To  shew  hir  selfe  in  such  unseemly  place, 
Whereas  among  such  yong  and  lustie  troupes 
Of  harebrainde  souldiers,  marching  to  and  fro. 
Both  honest  name  and  honour  is  empairde  :  50 

But  yet  rejoyce,  sith  this  thy  great  desire. 
Without  long  let,  or  yet  without  thy  paine, 
At  wishe  and  will  shortly  may  be  fulfillde. 
For  Polynice  forthwith  will  hither  come. 
Even  I  my  selfe  was  lately  at  the  campe,  55 

Commaunded  by  the  Queene  to  bid  him  come. 
Who  laboureth  still  to  linke  in  frendly  league 
Hir  jarring  sonnes  (which  happe,  so  hoped  for, 
Eftsones  I  pray  the  gracious  gods  to  graunt) 

49  harebrainde.    MS.,  heibrayn. 


1 66  €iiOCa0ta  [Act  I. 

Jnt.  Dunque  m'  afFermi  che  fia  Polinice 
Dentro  della  Citta  ? 

Bail.  Tosto  il  vedrai. 

Jnt.  E  chi  r  afEda,  oime,  chi  V  assecura 
Che  da  Eteocle  ei  non  riceva  oltraggio  ?  60 

Bail.  L'  assecura  la  fede  che  gli  ha  dato 
II  fratello,  e  la  tregua  ch'  ancor  dura. 

Ant.  lo  temo,  lassa,  io  temo 
Di  qualche  rete  ascosa 
Che  teso  gli  abbia  il  suo  crudel  fratello.  65 

Bail.  Fanciulla,  io  ti  vorrei  (sasselo  Iddio) 
Recar  qualche  conforto :   ma  non  posso 
Darti  quel  ben  ch'  i'  non  possedo  ancora. 
La  cagion,  ch'  Eteocle  e  Polinice 
Conduce,  come  intendi,  all'  odio  e  all'  armi,         70 
£  troppo  grande :  e  gia  per  questa  molti 
Hanno  senza  alcun  fren  rotte  le  leggi, 
E  sottosopra  le  Citta  rivolte. 
Troppo,  figliuola  mia,  troppo  possente 


f 


Scene  IH]  3|OCa0ta  1 67 

And  sure  I  am  that,  ere  this  houre  passe,  60 

Thou  shalt  him  here  in  person  safely  see. 

Jnti.   O  loving  frend,  doest  thou  then  war- 
rant me 
That  Polynice  will  come  unto  this  court  ? 

Bai.   Ere  thou  be  ware,  thou  shalt  him  here 
beholde. 

Anti.  And  who  (alas)  doth  warrant  his  adven- 
ture, 65 
That  of  Eteocles  he  take  no  harme  ? 

Bai.   For  constant  pledge  he  hath  his  broth- 
ers faith. 
He  hath  also  the  truce  that  yet  endures. 

Jn.   I  feare,  alas,  alas,  I  greatly  feare 
Some  trustlesse  snare  his  cruell  brother  layes        70 
To  trappe  him  in. 

Bai.   Daughter,  God  knowes  how  willing  I 
would  be 
With  sweete  reliefe  to  comforte  thy  distresse, 
But  I  cannot  impart  to  thee  the  good 
Which  I  my  selfe  doe  not  as  yet  enjoye.  75 

The  wailefull  cause  that  moves  Eteocles 
With  Polynice  to  enter  civil  warres 
Is  overgreat,  and  for  this  onely  cause 
Full  many  men  have  broke  the  lawes  of  truth. 
And  topsieturvie  turned  many  townes.  80 

"  To  gredie  (daughter),  too  too  gredie  is 

71  To   .    .    .   in.      MS.  adds  ( — )  at  the  end  of  this  line. 


1 68  ^iocasita  [acti. 

E  il  desio  di  regnar,  ne  ben  comporta  75 

Chi  solo  e  in  Signoria  di  aver  compagno : 

Pur  non  bisogna  diffidarsi  punto 

Dell'  aiuto  dei  Dii,  perocch'  ei  sono 

Giusti  e  pietosi  :  e,  lor  mercede,  fanno 

Quello  per  noi  che  pud  umana  forza.  80 

Jnt.   Ambi  son  miei  fratelli,  et  ambedoi 
Gli  amo,  quanto  piu  amar  sorella  deve. 
Ma  r  ingiuria  ch'  ha  fatto  a  Polinice 
Questo  crudel,  ch'  ha  efFetto  di  tiranno, 
M'  induce  ad  amar  piii  la  vita  e  '1  bene  85 

Di  Polinice,  ch'  i'  non  fo  di  lui : 
Oltre  ch',  essendo  Polinice  in  Tebe, 
Mostro  sempre  ver  me  pid  caldo  amore, 
Che  non  fee'  egli ;   a  cui  par  ch'  io  mi  sia 
Caduta  in  odio  :   anzi  io  mi  sono  accorta  90 

Che  vorria  non  vedermi,  e  forse  pensa 
Tormi  di  vita ;   e,  Io  fara,  potendo. 
Onde  questa  da  me  bramata  nuova 
M'  e  cara  pel  desio  ch'  ho  di  vederlo  ; 
Ma  la  tema  del  mal,  quanto  piu  1'  amo,  95 

Tanto  pill  il  dolce  mio  cangia  in  amaro. 


Scene  HI.]  ^OtU&tn  1 69 

Desire  to  rule  and  raigne  in  kingly  state." 

Ne  can  he  bide  that  swaise  a  realme  alone 

To  have  another  joynde  with  him  therein  : 

Yet  must  we  hope  for  helpe  of  heavenly  powers,  85 

Sith  they  be  juste,  their  mercy  is  at  hande 

To  helpe  the  weake,  when  worldly  force  doth 

faile. 
Jn.   As  both  my  brethren  be,  so  both  I  beare 
As  much  good  will  as  any  sister  may; 
But  yet  the  wrong  that  unto  Polynice  90 

This  trothlesse  tyrant  hath  unjustlie  shewd 
Doth  lead    me  more   to  wishe   the  prosperous 

life 
Of  Polynice  than  of  that  cruell  wretch. 
Besides  that,  Polynice,  whiles  he  remainde 
In  Thebes  here,  did  ever  love  me  more  95 

Than  did  Eteocles,  whose  swelling  hate 
Is  towards  me  increased  more  and  more  : 
Wherof  I  partely  may  assure  my  selfe. 
Considering  he  disdaynes  to  visite  me. 
Yea,  happly  he  intends  to  reave  my  life,  100 

And  having  power  he  will  not  sticke  to  doe  it. 
This  therefore  makes  me  earnestly  desire 
Oft  tymes  to  see  him  :  yet  ever  as  I  thinke 
For  to  discharge  the  duetie  of  a  sister. 
The  feare  I  have  of  hurt  doth  chaunge  as  fast    105 
My  doubtfull  love  into  disdainefull  spight. 

S^  powers.    MS.  puts  (.)  instead  of  (,)  at  end  of  line. 


170  6ioca0ta  [acti. 

Bail.   Pur  dei,  figliuola  mia,  sperar  in  Giove 
Ch'  ei  non  vorra  che,  per  cagion  d'un  rio,  • 

Patisca  insieme  la  bonta  di  molti  :  I 

Dico  di  te,  dico  di  Polinice,  loo 

Di  Giocasta  tua  madre,  e  parimente 
Delia  diletta  tua  sorella  Ismene ; 
La  qual,  benche  non  si  lamenti,  o  pianga, 
Non  pero  stimo  che  le  prema  il  core 
Minor  molestia. 

Jnt.  Appresso  mi  spaventa  105 

Certo  sospetto  (io  non  so  donde  nato) 
Ch*  ho  preso  gia  piii  di  sopra  Creonte, 
II  fratel  di  mia  madre.    Io  temo  lui 
Piii  ch'  io  non  fo  d'  altro  periglio. 

Bail.  Lascia, 

Figlia,  questi  sospetti  :   e  poiche  'n  breve  no 

Polinice  vedrai,  ritorna  dentro. 

Jnt.   Caro  a  me  in  questo  mezzo   intender 
fora 
L*  ordine  dell'  esercito  :   e  se  questo 
E  tal,  che  basti  ad  espugnarne  Tebe ; 
Che  grado  tien  il  mio  fratello,  e  dove  115 


Scene  ni]  ^Otn&tU  171 

Bai.  Yet,  daughter,  must  ye  trust  in  mightie 
Jove, 
His  will  is  not  that  for  thofFence  of  one 
So  many  suffer  undeserv^ed  smarte : 
I  meane  of  thee,  I  meane  of  Polynice,  no 

Of  Jocasta,  thy  wofull  aged  mother. 
And  of  Ismena,  thy  beloved  sister, 
Who,  though  for  this  she  doth  not  outwardly 
From  drearie  eyen  distill  lamenting  teares, 
Yet  do  I  thinke  no  lesse  aflicting  griefe  115 

Doth  inwardly  torment  hir  tender  brest. 

j^n.   Besides  all  this,  a  certaine  jelousie, 
Lately    conceyvde    (I    know    not    whence    it 

springs) 
Of  Creon,  my  mothers   brother,  appaules  me 

much. 
Him  doubt  I  more  than  any  danger  else.  120 

Bai.  Deare     daughter,    leave    this     foolishe 
jelousie. 
And  seeing  that  thou  shalt  heere  shortly  finde 
Thy  brother  Polynice,  go  in  agayne. 

Jn.   O  joy  full  would  it  be  to  me  therwhile 
To  understande  the  order  of  the  hoste,  125 

Whether  it  be  such  as  have  sufficient  power 
To  overthrowe  this  mightie  towne  of  Thebes. 
What  place  supplies  my  brother  Polynice  ? 

126   TFhether.    Marked  "r^aiif"  in  *<  Faultes  escaped  correc- 
tion," Qi,  but  Q2,  Q3  leave  it  unchanged. 


172  ^iocasfta  [acti. 

Trovato  V  hai,  e  quai  parole  ei  disse. 

E  benche  non  convien  si  fatta  cura 

Alia  mia  giovenil  tenera  etade; 

Nondimeno,  perch'  io  mi  trovo  ancora 

Cosi  del  ben,  come  del  male  a  parte  120 

Delia  cittade,  e  della  casa  nostra, 

Son  vaga  di  saper  quel  ch'  io  non  posso 

Intender,  ne  saper  per  altra  lingua. 

Bail.   Io  lodo  cosi  bello  alto  desio, 
Magnanima  fanciulla  :   e  brevemente  125 

Te  ne  soddisfero  del  tutto  a  pieno, 
La  gente  ch'  ha  condotto  Polinice, 
Di  cui  n'  e  Capitan,  siccome  quello 
Ch'  e  genero  d'  Adrasto,  Re  d'  Argivi, 
E  il  fior  di  Grecia  ;  e  tanta,  ch'  io  non  veggo     130J 
Siccome  possan  sostenere  i  nostri 
Si  grosso  incontro,  e  cosi  grave  assalto. 
Giunto  ch'  io  fui  nel  campo,  ritrovai 
L'  esercito  ordinato,  e  tutto  in  armi, 
Come  volesse  allor  dar  la  battaglia  135 

Alia  Cittade.    L'  ordine  diviso 
E  in  sette  schiere  j  e  di  quelle  ciascuna 
E  di  buon  Capitan  posta  in  governo. 
A  ognun  de'  Capitani  e  dato  cura 
D'  espugnar  una  porta  :   che  ben  sai  140 

Che  la  nostra  Cittade  ha  sette  porte. 


Scene  m.]  3l0CaS?ta  173 

Where  founde  ye  him  ?    what  ansvvere  did  he 

give  ? 
And  though  so  great  a  care  perteineth  not  130 

Unto  a  mayde  of  my  unskill  [full]  yeres, 
Yet,  forbicause  my  selfe  partaker  am 
Of  good  and  evill  with  this  my  countreysoyle, 
I  long  to  heare  thee  tell  those  fearefull  newes, 
Which  otherwise  I  cannot  understand.  135 

Bai.   So  noble  a  desire  (O  worthy  dame) 
I  much  commende  :   and  briefly  as  I  can 
Will  satisfie  thy  hungry  minde  herein. 
The  power  of  men  that  Polynice  hath  brought 
(Whereof  he,  being  Adrastus  sonne  in  lawe,       140 
Takes  chiefest   charge)  is    even    the    floure   of 

Grece, 
Whose  hugie  traine  so  mightie  seemes  to  be, 
As  I  see  not  how  this  our  drouping  towne 
Is  able  to  withstand  so  strong  a  siege. 
Entring  the  fielde,  their  armie  did  I  iinde  145 

So  orderly  in  forme  of  battaile  set. 
As  though  they  would  forthwith  have  given  the 

charge. 
In  battailes  seaven  the  host  devided  is. 
To  eche  of  which,  by  order  of  the  king, 
A  valiant  knight  for  captaine  is  assignde ;  15° 

And  as  you  know  this  citie  hath  seven  gates, 
So  everie  captaine  hath  his  gate  prescribde, 

131  unsktllfull,  MS.,  Qi.    Q2,  Q3,  unskiU. 


1 74  ^ioca^ta  [act  i. 

Poich'  io  passai  fra  le  nemiche  genti, 

(Che  secure  mi  fer  V  usate  insegne 

D'Ambasciator)  appresso  il  Re  trovai 

Polinice  di  ricche  armi  guernito,  145 

A  cui  largo  facea  cerchio  d'  intorno 

Piu  d'  un  Signer,  e  coronata  testa. 

Com'  ei  mi  vide,  si  cangio  nel  volto; 

E,  a  guisa  di  figliuol,  benignamente 

Mi  cinse  il  collo,  e  mi  bacio  la  fronte.  150 

Inteso  poi  quel  che  chiedea  la  madre, 

Mostrando  quanto  era  di  pace  vago, 

Disse  ch'  egli  verria  nella  Cittade  : 

Mi  domando  d'  Antigone,  e  d'  Ismene ; 

E  commise  ch*  a  te,  piu  ch'  ad  altrui,  155 

Recassi  a  nome  suo  pace  e  salute. 

Jnt.  Deh,  piaccia  al  Ciel  di  far  contento  lui 
Del  patrio  Regno,  e  me  della  sua  vista. 

Bail.  Non  pill,  figliuola  :  omai  ritorna  dentro ; 
Ch'  onor  non  e  della  Reale  altezza  160 

Ch'  alcun  ti  vegga  a  parlamento  fuori : 
Perocche  '1  volgo,  alle  calunnie  intento, 

144  Ambasciator.    O,  imbasciator. 


Scene  m.l  3lOCa0ta  175 

With  fierce  assault  to  make  his  entrie  at. 

And    further,    passing    through    our    frouning 

foes 
(That  gave  me  countnaunce  of  a  messanger),      155 
Harde  by  the  king  I  spied  Polynice 
In  golden  glistring  armes  most  richely  cladde, 
Whose  person  many  a  stately  prince  enpalde, 
And  many  a  comely  crowned  head  enclosde  : 
At  sight  of  me  his  colour  straight  he  chaungde,  160 
And  like  a  loving  childe,  in  clasped  armes 
He  caught  me  up,  and  frendly  kist  my  cheke. 
Then  hearing  what  his  mother  did  demaunde, 
With  glad  consent  according  to  hir  hest 
Gave  me  his  hand,  to  come  unto  the  court,        165 
Of  mutuall  truce  desirous  so  he  seemde ; 
He  askt  me  of  Antygone  and  Ismena, 
But  chiefelie  unto  thee  above  the  rest 
He  gave  me  charge   most  heartly  to  commend 
him. 

An.  The  gods  give  grace  he  may  at  length 
possesse  170 

His  kingly  right,  and  I  his  wished  sight. 

Ba'i.   Daughter,  no   more,  'tis  time  ye  nowe 
returne. 
It  standes  not  with  the  honor  of  your  state 
Thus  to  be  scene  suspiciously  abrode  : 
"  For  vulgar  tongues  are  armed  evermore  1^5 

173   standes.    MS.,  standith. 


176  ^ioca0ta  [acti. 

Sta  sempre  armato,  per  macchiar  la  fama 

D'  onesta  donna:   e  s'  egli  avvien  che  trovi 

Picciola  occasion,  1'  accresce  tanto,  165 

Che  n'  empie  di  rumor  tutte  1'  orecchie  : 

£  '1  grido  d'  onesta  che  dl  voi  s'  ode 

E  qual  tenero  fior,  ch'  ad  ogni  fiato 

Di  picciol'  aura  s'  ammarcisce  e  muore. 

Ritorna ;   che  io  n'  andro  per  questa  via  170 

Ad  incontrar,  s'  io  posso,  Polinice. 


CORO. 

Se,  come  ambiziosa  e  ingorda  mente 
Noi  miseri  mortali 
Diverse  cose  a  desiar  accende, 


Scene  m.]  J^OtdiSHU  1 77 

With   slaunderous   brute   to  bleamishe   the  re- 

noume 
Of  vertues  dames,  which  though  at  first  it  spring 
Of  slender  cause,  yet  doth  it  swell  so  fast, 
As  in  short  space  it  filleth  everie  eare  ^   i^g 

With   swifte    reporte    of   undeserved  for  yong 

blame :  ^■°"^^"- 

You  cannot  be  to  curious  of  your  name : 
Fond  shewe  of  evill  (though  still  the   minde  be 

chast) 
Decayes  the  credite  oft  that  ladies  had. 
Sometimes  the  place  presumes  a  wanton  mynde  : 
Repayre  sometymes  of  some    doth    hurt    their 

honor :  185 

Sometimes  the  light  and  garishe  proude  attire 
Persuades  a  yelding  bent  of  pleasing  youthes." 
The  voyce  that  goeth  of  your  unspotted  fame 
Is  like  a  tender  floure,  that  with  the  blast 
Of  everie  litle  winde  doth  fade  away.  190 

Goe  in,  deere  childe ;   this  way  will  I  goe  see. 
If  I  can  meete  thy  brother  Polynice. 

Antigone y  with  hir  maides,  returneth  into  hir 
mothers  pallace  ;  hir  governour  goeth  out 
by  the  gates  Homoloydes. 

Chorus. 

If  greedie  lust  of  mans  ambitious  eye 

(That  thirsteth  so  for  swaye  of  earthly  things) 

177   vertues.    MS.,  vertuous. 


1 78  (3iOa&tn  [Act  I. 

Cosi  sapesse  antiveder  i  mali, 

E  quel  che  parimente 

Giova  air  umana  vita,  e  quel  ch'  ofFende  : 

Tal  piange  oggi,  e  riprende 

Fortuna  chi  gioioso  e  lieto  fora  : 

Perocche  con  prudente  accorto  ciglio 

S'  armeria  di  consiglio, 

Di  quanto  porge  il  Ciel  contento  ogn*  ora ; 

Laddove  avvien  che  con  non  poco  afFanno 

Quel  piu  si  cerca  ch'  e  piu  nostro  danno. 

Alcun  di  questo  umil  fugace  bene, 

Che  si  chiama  bellezza, 

Superbo  ando,  che  sospiro  dappoi  : 

Altri  bramo  dominio,  altri  ricchezza, 

E  n'  ebbe  angoscie  e  pene, 

O  vide  acerbo  fine  ai  giorni  suoi : 

Perche  non  e  fra  noi 

State  di  cui  fidar  si  possa  alcuno. 

14  Alcun.  O,  cun,  but  corrected  in  **  Printers'  Errors  "  at  end 
of  that  edition,  and  in  text  of  D. 


Chorus.]  3|OCa0ta  179 

Would  eke  foresee  what  mischefes  growe  therby, 
What  carefull  toyle  to  quiet  state  it  brings, 
What   endlesse   griefe    from    such   a    fountaine 

springs:       _  5 

Then  should  he  swimme  in  seas  of  sweete  de- 
light, 
That  novve  complaines  of  fortunes  cruell  spight. 
For  then  he  would  so  safely  shielde  himselfe 
With  sacred  rules  of  wisdomes  sage  advise. 
As  no  alluring  trayne  of  trusties  pelfe  lo 

To  fonde  afFectes  his  fancie  should  entise ; 
Then   warie    heede  would   quickly    make    him 

wise  : 
Where  contrary  (such  is  our  skillesse  kind) 
We  most   doe  seeke   that    most   may  hurt   the 
minde. 
Amid  the  troupe  of  these  unstable  toyes,  15 

Some  fancies,  loe,  to  beautie  must  be  bent ; 
Some  hunt    for  wealth,  and  some  set  all  their 

joyes 
In  regall  power  of  princely  governement ; 
Yet  none  of  these  from  care  are  cleane  exempt  : 
For  either  they  be  got  with  grievous  toyle,  20 

Or  in  the  end  forgone  with  shamefull  foyle. 
This   flitting  world   doth   firmely  nought  re- 


tame 


Wherein  a  man  may  boldly  rest  his  trust ; 

13    Where,    MS.,  When.  16  must.    MS.,  Qi,  most. 


i8o  ^ioca^ta  [acti. 

Quinci  1'  instabil  Diva  in  un  momento 

Volge  ogni  uman  contento, 

E  n'  invola  i  diletti  ad  uno  ad  uno  : 

Talche  tutto  '1  gioir  che  '1  cor  n'  ingombra  25 

A  par  delle  miserie  e  fumo  et  ombra. 

Da  grave  error  fu  circondato  e  cinto 

Quei  che  tranquilla  vita 

Pose  nella  volgar  piu  bassa  gente. 

Quando  la  luce  a  chi  regge  e  sparita,  30 

A  noi  si  asconde  il  giorno, 

E  sdegna  il  Sol  mostrarsi  in  Oriente  : 

Ne  puo  si  leggermente 

II  Principe  patir  ruina,  o  scempio, 

Che  '1  suddito  meschin  non  senta  il  danno  :  35 

E  di  cio  d'anno  in  anno 

Scopre  il  viver  uman  piij  d'  uno  esempio. 

Cos!  delle  pazzie  de'  Real  petti  j 

Ne  portano  il  flagel  sempre  i  soggetti.  ' 

Ecco  siccome  voglia  empia,  e  perversa  40. 

D'  esser  soli  nel  Regno 

L'  uno  e  r  altro  fratello  all'  arme  ha  spinto  : 

Ma  Polinice  con  piu  onesto  sdegno 

Move  gente  diversa 

Contra  la  patria :  onde  ne  giace  estinto 


Chorus]  31OCa0ta  l8l 

Such  fickle  chaunce  in  fortune  doth  remaine, 
As  when  she  lust,  she  threatneth  whom  she  lust,  25 
From  high  renoume  to  throwe  him  in  the  dust : 
Thus  may  we  see  that  eche  triumphing  joye 
Bv  fortunes  froune  is  turned  to  annoye. 

Those  elder  heades  may  well   be  thought   to 
erre 
The  which  for  easie  life  and  quiet  dayes  30 

The  vulgar  sorte  would  seeme  for  to  preferre. 
If  glorious  Phoebe  with-holde  his  glistring  rayes 
From    such    a    peere    as    crowne    and    scepter 

swayes. 
No  mervaile  though  he  hide  his  heavenly  face 
From  us  that  come  of  lesse  renoumed  race.  35 

Selde  shall  you  see   the  ruine  of  a        Argumentum 
prince,  ^  '^''^°''^' 

But  that  the  people  eke  like  brunt  doe  beare. 
And  old  recordes  of  auncient  time  long  since. 
From  age  to  age,  yea  almost  everie  where. 
With  proofe  herof  hath  glutted  every  eare  :  40 

Thus  bv  the  follies  of  the  princes  hart 
The  bounden  subject  still  receiveth  smart. 

Loe,  how  unbrideled  lust  of  privat  raigne 
Hath  pricked  both  the  brethren  unto  warre ; 
Yet  Polynice,  with  signe  of  lesse  disdaine,  ^^ 

Against  this  lande  hath  brought  from  countries 
farre 

24  fickle.    MS.,  ficklie. 


1 82  ^iocasfta  [actl 

Nel  cor  di  velen  tinto 

II  debito,  r  amor,  e  la  pietate  : 

E,  vinca  chi  si  vuol  de'  due  fratelli ; 

Noi  Donne,  e  tutti  quelli 

Di  Tebe,  sentirem  la  crudeltate  50 

Di  Marte,  che  Taspetto  ad  ambi  ha  mostro, 

Per  tinger  la  sua  man  nel  sangue  nostro. 

Ma  tu,  figlio  di  Semele,  e  di  Giove, 
Che  I'orgogliose  prove 

Vincesti  de'  Giganti  empi  e  superbi,  55 

Difendi  il  popol  tuo  supplice  pio, 
Che  te  sol  cole,  e  te  conosce  Dio. 


Chorus.]  ^lOCafifta  1 83 

A  forraine  power  to  end  this  cruell  jarre, 
Forgetting  quite  the  dutie,  love,  and  zeale 
He  ought  to  beare  unto  this  common  weale. 

But  whosoever  gets  the  victorie,  50 

We  wretched  dames,  and  thou,  O  noble  towne  ! 
Shall  feele  therof  the  wofull  miserie  : 
Thy    gorgeous    pompe,   thy    glorious    high   re- 

noume, 
Thy  stately  towers  and  all  shal  fall  a  downe, 
Sith  raging  Mars  will  cache  of  them  assist  55 

In  others  brest  to  bathe  his  bloudie  fist. 

But  thou,  *0  Sonne  of  Semel  and  of       ^„     ^ 

_       '  *  Bacchus. 

Jove, 
That    tamde    the    proude    attempt    of   giaunts 

strong. 
Doe  thou  defende,  even  of  thy  tender  love, 
Thy  humble  thralls  from  this  afflict-        „     , 

^  .  Bacchus  was 

mg  wrong,  the  god  whom 

Whom  wast  of  warre  hath  now  tor-        they  most 
mented  long  :  ^^^^'^^  ^ 

So  shall   we  never   faile,  ne  day  ne 
night. 

With  reverence  due  thy  prayses  to  resight. 

Finis  Actus  primi. 
Done  by  F.  Kinwelmarshe. 


The  order  of  the  second 
dumbe  shewe. 

Before  the  beginning  of  this  seconde  Acte  dyd 
sound  a  very  dolefull  noise  of  flutes  :  during  the 
which  there  came  in  upon  the  stage  two  coffines 
covered  with  hearclothes,  and  brought  in  by  viii 
in  mourning  weed,  and  accompanied  with  viii  5 
other  mourners  :  and  after  they  had  caried  the 
coffins  about  the  stage,  there  opened  and  ap- 
peared a  grave,  wherin  they  buried  the  coffins, 
and  put  fire  to  them;  but  the  flames  did  sever 
and  parte  in  twaine,  signifying  discord  by  the  10 
history  of  two  brethren,  whose  discord  in  their 
hfe  was  not  onely  to  be  wondred  at,  but,  being 
buried  both  in  one  tombe  (as  some  writers  af- 
firme),  the  flames  of  their  funeralls  did  yet  parte 
the  one  from  the  other  in  like  maner,  and  15 
would  in  no  wise  joyne  into  one  flame.  After 
the  funerals  were  ended  and  the  fire  consumed, 
the  grave  was  closed  up  again,  the  mourners 
withdrew  them  off  the  stage,  and  immediately, 
by  the  gates  Homoloydes  entred  Pollinyces,  ac-  20 

5   iveed.     Q3,  weeds.  il   two.     MS.,  the  two. 


©1)0  orDer  of  tlje  0econtJ  Dumbe  sfljetDe  185 

companied  with  vi  gentlemen  and  a  page  that 
carried  his  helmet  and  target ;  he  and  his  men 
unarmed  saving  their  gorgets,  for  that  they  were 
permitted  to  come  into  the  towne  in  time  of 
truce,  to  the  end  Jocasta  might  bring  the  two  25 
brethren  to  a  parle  :  and  Pollinyces,  after  good 
regard  taken  round  about  him,  speake  as  fol- 
oweth. 


Atto  Secondo 

[SCENA    I.] 

Polinicet  Coro,  Giocasta. 

Polinice,    Questa  e  pur  la  Citta  propria  e  natia : 
Questo  e  il  paterno  mio  diletto  nido. 
Ma,  bench'  io  sia  tra  le  mie  stesse  case, 
E  'nsieme  securta  me  ne  abbia  data 
Colui  che  gode  le  sostanze  mie,  5 

Non  debbo  camminar  senza  sospetto ; 
Poich'  ove  e  '1  mio  fratello,  ivi  bisogna 
Ch'  io  tema  piij,  che  fra  nemiche  genti. 
£  ver  che,  mentre  nella  destra  mano 
Sostengo  questa  giusta  e  invitta  spada,  lo 

S'  io  morro,  non  morro  senza  vendetta. 
Ma  ecco  il  santo  Asilo,  ecco  di  Bacco 
La  veneranda  Immago,  ecco  1'  altare. 
La  dove  il  sacro  foco  arde  e  risplende ; 
E  dove  nel  passato  al  nostro  Dio  i5 

Tante  gia  di  mia  man  vittime  offersi. 
Veggo  dinanzi  un  onorato  coro 
Di  donne ;  e  sono  appunto  della  corte 
Di  Giocasta  mia  madre.    Ecco  siccome 


Actus  2.      Scena   i. 

Polinices,  Chorus.     \_LaUr'j   Jocasta,  Eteocles. 

\_Polinices.']    Loe,  here   mine  owne  citie  and 

native  soyle, 
Loe,  here  the  nest  I  ought  to  nestle  in  ! 
Yet,   being    thus    entrencht    with    mine    owne 

towres. 
And  that  from  him  the  safeconduct  is  given, 
Which  doth  enjoye  as  much  as  mine  should  be,     5 
My  feete  can  treade  no  step  without  suspect : 
For  where  my  brother  bides,  even  there  behoves 
More  warie  scout  than  in  an  enmies  campe. 
Yet  while  I  may  within  this  right  hand  holde 
This  (*)  bronde,  this  blade  (unyelden  ever       Sworde. 

yet),  ^  10 

My  life  shall  not  be  lefte  without  revenge. 
But  here  beholde  the  holy  sancturie. 
Of  Bacchus  eke  the  worthie  image  :  loe 
The  aultars  where  the  sacred  flames  have  shone. 
And  where  of  yore  these  giltlesse  hands  of  mine  15 
Full  oft  have  offered  to  our  mightie  gods. 
I  see  also  a  worthie  companie 
Of  Thebane  dames,  resembling  unto  me 
The  traine  of  Jocasta,  my  deare  mother  : 


1 88  ^ioras^ta  [actii. 

Son  vestite  di  panni  oscuri  e  negri,  20 

Color  ch'  altrove  mai,  per  altri  danni, 

A'  miseri  non  fur  conforme  tanto; 

Ch'  in  breve  si  vedran  (merce  del  folle 

E  temerario  ardir  del  suo  Tiranno) 

Prive,  altre  de'  figliuoli,  altre  de'  padri,  15 

Et  altre  de*  mariti,  e  amici  cari. 

Ma  tempo  e  di  ripor  la  spada,  e  'nsieme 

Dimandar  lor  della  Reina.    Donne 

Meste  e  infelici,  dove  senza  voi 

£  la  Reina  misera  di  Tebe  ?  30 

Coro.  Del  nostro  Re  figlio,  o  Signer  caro, 
Ch'  a  noi  tornate  dopo  tanti  giorni, 
La  venuta  di  voi  felice  sia, 
E  renda  pace  alia  Citta  turbata. 
O  Reina,  o  Reina,  uscite  fuori :  35 

Ecco  r  amato  figlio, 
Ecco  il  frutto  gentil  del  vostro  seme. 


Scene  I]  ^OCdi^tH  1 89 

Beholde  them  clad  in  clothes  of  griesly  blacke,     20 
That  hellishe  hewe  that  (*)  nay  for  other        Never. 

harmes 
So  well  besemed  wretched  wightes  to  weare  : 
For  why  ?    Ere   long    their   selves,    themselves 

shall  see 
(Gramercy  to  their  princes  tyrannic) 
Some  spoyled  of  their  sweete  and  sucking  babes,  25 
Some  lese  their  husband,  other  some  their  sire. 
And  some  their  friends  that  were  to  them   full 

dere. 
But  now  tis  time  to  lay  the  sworde  aside. 
And  eke  of  them  to  knowe  where  is  the  Queene : 
O  worthie  dames  !   heavie,  unhappie  ye !  30 

Where    resteth    now   the    restlesse    queene    of 

Thebes  ? 
Chorus.   O  worthie  impe,  sprong  out  of  wor- 
thie race, 
Renoumed  prince,  whom  wee    have  lookt  for 

long. 
And  nowe  in  happie  houre  arte  come  to  us, 
Some  quiet  bring  to  this  unquiet  realme.  35 

O  queene,  O  queene,  come  foorth  and  see  thy 

Sonne, 
The  gentle  frute  of  all  thy  joyfull  seede. 

Sivorde.     Never.     Qz  reverses  the  order  of  the  two  side-notes  j 
the  mistake  is  corrected  in  Q3. 

28   the.     MS.,  Qi,  this.  30  ye.     MS.,  you. 


190  ^ioca0ta  [act  11. 

Giocasta.  Care  gentili  amiche, 
Dilette  e  fide  ancelle, 

lo  movo  al  suon  delle  parole  vostre  40 

I  debol  piedi,  io  movo, 

Non  men  per  duol,  che  per  vecchiezza,  tarda. 
Ov'  e  1'  amato  figlio,  ov'  e  colui, 
Per  cui  meno  in  sospir  le  notti,  e  i  giorni  ? 

Pol.  Madre,  egli  e  qui,  non  come  cittadino,    45 
E  Re  di  Tebe,  ma  come  conviensi 
A  peregrin,  merce  di  suo  fratello. 

Gio.   O  bramato  da  me  dolce  figliuolo  : 
Io  ti  miro,  io  ti  tocco,  e  appena  il  credo. 
Appena  il  petto  mio  puo  sostenere  50 

L'  insperata  letizia  che  T  ingombra.  ! 

O  caro  aspetto,  ove  me  stessa  io  veggio. 

Coro,  Si  vi  conceda  Dio  di  veder  ambi 
Per  comun  bene  i  vostri  figli  amici. 

^'j  peregrin.    O,  pellegrin.  di.   O,  del.  j 


I 


Scene  I.]  3!OCa0ta  IQI 

[^Enter  Jocasta.~\ 

Jocasta.   My   faith  full    frends,   my   deare  be- 
loved maydes, 
I  come  at  call,  and  at  your  wordes  I  move 
My  feebled  feete  with  age  and  agonie  :  40 

Where  is  my  sonne  ?    O  tell  me,  where  is  he 
For  whome  I  sighed  have  so  often  syth, 
For  whom  I  spende  both  nightes  and  dayes  in 
teares  ? 
Pol.   Here,  noble  mother,  here  !    not  as  the 
king. 
Nor  as  a  citizen  of  stately  Thebes,  45 

But  as  a  straunger  nowe,  I  thanke  my  brother. 
Joe.   O   Sonne !    O    sweete  and    my  desyred 
Sonne ! 
These  eyes  thee  see,  these  handes  of  myne  thee 

touche, 
Yet  scarsly  can  this  mynde  beleeve  the  same. 
And  scarsly  can  this  brused  breast  susteyne  50 

The  sodeyne  joye  that  is  inclosde  therein  : 
O  gladsome  glasse,  wherein  I  see  my  selfe  ! 
Chor.   So  graunt  the  gods  that,  for  our  com- 
mon good. 
You  frendly  may  your  sonnes  both  frendes  be- 
holde. 

48  thee  see.     Qq,  they  see.     MS.  puts  they  in  both  cases,  but  the 
y  was  afterwards  marked  out. 
53   ^hat.     Q2,  Q3  omit. 


192  ^ioca^ta  [actii. 

Gio.  Tu  col  tuo  dipartir  lasciasti,  o  figlio,        55 
La  tua  casa  dolente,  e  me  tua  madre 
Colma  d'  ogni  martir,  piangendo  sempre 
L'  indegno  esilio  che  '1  fratel  ti  diede. 
Ne  fu,  figliuol,  mai  desiato  tanto 
Da'  cari  amici  suoi  lontano  amico,  60 

Quanto  il  ritorno  tuo  da  tutta  Tebe. 
Ma,  per  parlar  di  me,  piu  che  d'  altrui ; 
lo,  (come  veder  puoi)  disposti  avendo 
I  real  panni,  in  abito  lugubre 

Tenute  ho  sempre  queste  membra  invoke :  65 

Ne  da  quest'  occhi  e  uscito  altro,  che  pianto: 
E  '1  vecchio  padre  tuo,  misero,  e  cieco, 
Poiche  intese  la  guerra  ch'  e  fra  voi, 
Pentito  al  fin  d'  aver  pregato  i  Dii 
Pill  volte,  e  piii  per  la  rovina  vostra,  70 

Ha  voluto  finir  miseramente 
O  con  laccio,  o  coltel  1'  odiata  vita. 
Tu  in  tanto,  figliuol  mio,  fatt'  hai  dimora 
In  lontani  paesi,  e  preso  moglie, 


Scene  I.]  ^Otdi&tZ  193 

Joe.  At  thy  departe,  O  lovely  chylde,  thou 
lefte  55 

My   house   in  teares,    and    mee,    thy   wretched 

dame, 
Myrrour  of  martirdome,  (*)  waymenting       *  Lament- 
still  ing. 
Th'unworthie  exile  thy  brother  to  thee  gave  : 
Ne  was  there  ever  sonne  or  friende  farre  off, 
Of  his  deare  frendes  or  mother  so  desyred  60 
As  thy  returne  in  all  the  towne  of  Thebes. 
And  of  my  selfe  more  than  the  rest  to  speake, 
I  have,  as  thou  mayste  see,  cleane  cast  asyde 
My  princely  roabes,  and  thus  in  wofull  weede 
Bewrapped  have  these  lustlesse  limmes  of  myne :  65 
Naught  else  but  teares  have  trickled  from  myne 

eyes  ; 
And  eke  thy  wretched,  blynde  and  aged  syre, 
Since  first  he  hearde  what  warre  tweene  you 

there  was, 
As  one  that  did  his  bitter  cursse  repent. 
Or  that  he  prayed  to  Jove  for  your  decaye,  yo 

With  stretching  string  or  else  with  bloudie  knyfe 
Hath  sought  full  ofte  to  ende  his  loathed  lyfe. 
Thou  this  meane  whyle,  my  sonne,  hast  lingred 

long 
In  farre  and  forreyn  coastes,  and  wedded  eke, 

57  waymenting.     MS.,  lamentyng. 

58  to.      MS.  omits. 


194  €iioca0ta  [acth. 

Onde  di  pellegrine  nozze  attendi,  75 

Quando  piacera  al  Ciel,  figliuoli  e  prole  : 

II  che  m'  e  grave,  e  molto  piu,  figliuolo, 

Che  potuto  non  m'  ho  trovar  presente, 

E  fornir  quell'  officio  che  conviene 

A  buona  madre  :   ma,  perocch'  intendo  g© 

Che  questo  maritaggio  e  di  te  degno, 

10  ti  vo'  confortar  pietosamente 
Che  torni  ad  abitar  la  tua  Cittade; 
Che  ben  e  per  la  moglie,  e  per  te  fia 

Comodo  albergo.    T'  esca  omai  di  mente  85 

L'  ofFesa  del  fratello  :   e  sappi,  o  figlio, 

Che  d'  ogni  mal  ch'  abbia  a  seguir  tra  voi 

A  me  stessa  verra  la  pena  e  '1  duolo  : 

Ne  potrete  segnar  si  leggermente 

Le  vostre  carni,  che  la  mano,  e  '1  ferro  90 

Non  apra  insieme  a  questa  vecchia  il  petto. 

Coro.  Amor  non  e  che  s'  appareggia  quelle 
Che  la  pietosa  madre  ai  figli  porta ; 

11  qual  tanto  piu  cresce,  quanto  in  essi 

Scema  il  contento,  e  crescono  gli  affanni.  95 


Scene  I.]  3(lOCa0ta  195 

By  whome  thou  mayste(when  heavens  appoyntes 

it  so)  75 

Straunge  issue  have  by  one  a  stranger  borne, 
Whiche  greeves  me  sore,  and  much  the  more, 

deare  chylde, 
Bicause  I  was  not  present  at  the  same. 
There  to  performe  thy  loving  mothers  due. 
But  for  I  fynde  thy  noble  matche  so  meete,  80 

And  woorthie  bothe  for  thy  degree  and  byrthe, 
I  seeke  to  comforte  thee  by  myne  advise. 
That  thou  returne  this  citie  to  inhabite, 
Whiche  best  of  all  may  seeme  to  be  the  bowre, 
Bothe  for  thy  selfe  and  for  thy  noble  spouse.        85 
Forget  thou  then  thy  brothers  injuries. 
And  knowe,  deare  chylde,  the  harme  of  all  misse- 

hap 
That  happes  twixt  you,  must  happe  likewise  to 

mee  : 
Ne  can  the  cruell  sworde  so  slightly  touche 
Your    tender    fleshe,   but    that    the    selfe    same 

wounde  9° 

Shall  deepely  bruse  this  aged  brest  of  myne. 
Cho.  "  There  is  no  love  may  be  comparde  to 

that 
The  tender  mother  beares  unto  hir  chyld  : 
For  even  somuche  the  more  it  dothe  encrease. 
As  their  griefe  growes  or  contentations  cease."     95 

75  appoyntes.    MS.,  appoint. 


196  ^ioca^ta  [actii. 

Pol.  Madre,   io    non    so   se    d'  aver    lod'    io 
merto  ; 
Che,  per  piacer  a  voi,  cui  piacer  debbo, 
Mi  sia  condotto  in  man  de'  miei  nemici, 
Ma  sforzato  e  ciascun  (voglia,  o  non  voglia) 
La  patria  amar  :  e  s'  altrimente  dice,  100 

Ben  con  la  lingua  il  cor  non  e  conforme. 
Questo  me,  dopo  V  obbligo  di  figlio. 
Ha  indotto,  madre,  a  non  prezzar  la  vita  ; 
Perche  dal  mio  fratel  sperar  non  posso 
Altro  ch'  insidie  e  tradimenti,  e  forza.  105 

Con  tutto  cio  ritrar  non  m'  ha  potuto 
Ne  pericol  presente,  ne  futuro, 
Ch'  io  rimanessi  d'  ubbidire  a  voi. 
Ma  non  posso  veder  senza  mia  doglia 
I  paterni  palazzi,  e  i  santi  altari,  no 

E  i  cari  alberghi  ove  nudrito  i'  fui ; 
Da'  quai  spinto,  e  cacciato  indegnamente, 
Nelle  case  d'  altrui  faccio  dimora. 
Ma,  siccome  da  verde  e  fresca  pianta 
Novi  rampolli  un  sopra  1'  altro  nasce  ;  115 

Cosi  air  interno  mio  grave  tormento 
Un  se  n'  aggiunge,  e  forse  anco  maggiore. 
Quest'  e  il  veder  voi,  mia  diletta  madre, 
Ricoperta  di  panni  atri  e  funesti, 


Scene  I.J  J^OtU&U  197 

Poi.  I  knowe  not,  mother,  if  I  prayse  deserve 
(That  you  to  please,  whome  I  ought  not  dis- 
please) 
Have  traynde  my  selfe  among  my  trustlesse  foes  : 
But  nature  drawes  (whether  he  will  or  nill) 
Eche  man  to  love  his  native  countrey  soyle  :       loo 
And  who  shoulde  say  that  otherwise  it  were, 
His  toung  should  never  with  his  hearte  agree. 
This  hath  me  drawne,  besyde  my  bounden  due, 
To  set  full  light  this  lucklesse  lyfe  of  myne  : 
For  of  my  brother  what  may  I  else  hope  105 

But   traynes    of   treason,   force    and    falshoode 

bothe  ? 
Yet  neyther  perill  present  nor  to  come 
Can  holde  me  from  my  due  obedience  : 
I  graunte  I  can  not  grieflesse  wel  beholde 
My  fathers  pallace,  the  holie  aultars,  no 

Ne  lovely  lodge  wherin  I  fostred  was  : 
From  whence  driven  out  and  chaste  unworthily, 
I  have  to  long  aboade  in  forreyn  coastes  : 
And  as  the  growing  greene  and  pleasant  plante 
Dothe  beare  freshe  braunches  one  above  another,  115 
Even  so  amidde  the  huge  heape  of  my  woes. 
Doth  growe  one  grudge  more  greevous  than  the 

rest. 
To  see  my  deare  and  dolefull  mother  cladde 
In  mourning  tyre,  to  tyre  hir  mourning  minde, 

110  t^e-    Hazlitt,  and  the. 


198  ^iocas?ta  [act  11. 

Misera  sol  per  la  miseria  mia.  120 

Cosi  place  al  fratello,  anzi  nimico  : 

Ben  vedrete  vol  tosto  come  al  mondo 

Nimicizia  non  e  che  vada  eguale 

A  quella  che  produce  fra'  congiunti, 

Per  qualunque  cagion,  disdegno  ed  ira.  125 

Ma  sallo  Dio  quanto  per  voi  mi  duole, 

E  del  misero  stato  di  mio  padre  : 

E  desio  di  saper  qual  vita  tiene 

L'  una  e  1'  altra  di  me  cara  sorella, 

E  qual  r  esilio  mio  lor  porge  afFanno.  130 

Gio.  Ahi,    che    1'  ira     di     Giove     abbatte    e 
strugge 
La  progenie  d'Edipo.    La  cagione 
Prima  furon  le  nozze  di  tuo  padre, 
Dappoi  (deh,  perche  tocco  le  mie  piaghe  ?) 
Me  partorito  aver,  voi  1'  esser  nati  :  135 

Ma  quel  che  vien  dal  Ciel  soffrir  bisogna. 
Ben  grato  mi  saria  di  dimandarti 
D'  alcune  cose ;  e  non  vorrei,  figliuolo, 
Che  le  parole  mie  ti  fosser  gravi. 

Pol.  Dite    pur,    madre     mia,    quel     che     v' 

aggrada :  140 

Che  quanto  place  a  voi  tanto  a  me  place. 

Gio.  Non  pare  a  te  che  sia  gravoso  male 


Scene  I.]  '^OCRStU  1 99 

Wretched  alonely  for  my  wretchednesse ;  120 

So  lykes  that  enimie,  my  brother,  best : 

Soone  shall  you  see  that  in  this  wandring  worlde 

No  enmitie  is  equall  unto  that 

That  dark  disdayne  (the  cause  of  every  evill) 

Dooth  breede  full  ofte  in  consanguinitie.  125 

But  Jove,  he  knowes  what  dole  I  doe  endure 

For  you  and  for  my  fathers  wretched  woe, 

And  eke  how  deepely  I  desire  to  knowe 

What  wearie  lyfe  my  loving  sisters  leade, 

And    what    anoye    myne    absence    them    hath 

given.  130 

yoc.  Alas,  alas,  howe  wrekefull  wrath  of  gods 
Doth  still  afflicte  Oedipus  progenie  : 
Thy  fyrste  cause  w^as  thy  fathers  wicked  bedde. 
And  then  (oh,  why  doe  I  my  plagues  recompte  ?) 
My  burden  borne  and  your  unhappie  birth  :         135 
"  But  needes  we  must  with  pacient  heartes  abyde 
What  so  from  high  the  heavens  doe  provide." 
With  thee,  my  chylde,  fayne  would   I  question 

yet 
Of  certaine  things  :  ne  woulde  I  that  my  wordes 
Might  thee  anoye,  ne  yet  renewe  thy  griefe.        140 
Po/.   Saye  on,  deare  mother,  say  what  so  you 

please  : 
What  pleaseth  you  shall  never  mee  disease. 
jfoc.  And   seemes  it   not  a  heavie  happe,  my 

Sonne, 


200  ^ioca^ta  [act  ii. 

L'  esser,  figliuol,  della  sua  patria  privo  ? 

Pol.   Gravoso  si,  che  non  puo  dirsi  appieno. 

Gio.   E  quale  e  la  cagion  che  piu  molesti  145 

L'  uomo,  quando  in  esilio  si  ritrova  ? 

Pol.  La  liberta  che  con  la  patria  perde, 
E  '1  non  aver  di  ragionar  licenza 
Senza  rispetto  alcun  quel  che  gli  pare. 

Gio.  Al  servo,  figliuol  mio,  non  e  concesso     150 
Scoprir  1'  animo  suo  senza  periglio. 

Pol.  Ciascun  esule,  o  sia  libero,  o  sia 
D'  alta  stirpe  disceso,  e  al  servo  eguale  : 
Perocche  suo  mal  grado  gli  conviene 
Obbedir  alle  voglie  di  ciascuno,  155 

E  lodar  le  pazzie  di  chi  comanda. 

Gio.  E  questo  pare  a  te  tanto  molesto  ? 

Pol.  Non  e  doglia  maggior  ch'  esser  forzato 
Servir  a  chi  non  dee  contra  1'  onesto  ; 
E  molto  pill,  quando  si  trova  1'  uomo  160 

Nobile  o  per  istirpe,  o  per  virtute, 
Et  abbia  a  nobilta  conforme  il  core. 


Scene  I]  JIOCaSftH  201 

To  be  deprived  of  thy  countrey  coastes  ? 

Pol.   So   heavie   happe   as    toung   can  not  ex- 

presse.  145 

Joe.   And  what  may  moste  molest  the        Exile  an  ex- 

mynde  of  man  ceding 

{  •!     1      r  u-  •  gnete  to  an 

[That]     IS    exiled    trom    his    native        honest 

SOyle  ?  mynde. 

Pol.   The  libertie  hee  with  his  countrey  loste, 
"  And  that  he  lacketh  freedome  for  to  speake 
What  seemeth  best,  without  control!  or  checke."  150 

Joe.  Why  so  ?  eche  servant  lacketh  libertie 
To    speake    his    minde    without    his    maisters 
leave. 

Pol.  "  In  exile  every  man,  or  bonde  or        ^^  ^    j^g 

free,  are  like 

Of  noble  race  or  meaner  parentage,  bondmen. 

Is  not  in  this  unlike  unto  the  slave,  155 

That  muste  of  force  obey  to  eche  mans  will, 
And    prayse    the    peevishnesse    of   eche    mans 
pryde." 

Joe.   And  seemed  this  so  grievous  unto  thee  ? 

Pol.   What    griefe    can    greater   be,    than    so 
constraynde 
Slavelike  to  serve  gaynst  right  and  reason  bothe,  160 
Yea,  muche  the  more  to  him  that  noble  is 
By  stately  lyne  or  yet  by  vertuous  lyfe, 
And  hath  a  heart  lyke  to  his  noble  mynde. 

\^j   That.     Q2,  This.     T/iar  in  MS.,  Qi,  and  Q3. 


202  i&iOtn&tn  [Act  II. 

Gio.  Nella  miseria  sua  chi  lo  mantiene  ? 

Pol.  La  speranza  de'  miseri  conforto. 

Gio.  Speranza  di  tornar  ond'  e  cacciato  ?         165 

Po/.  Speme  che  troppo  tarda  ;   e  alcuna  volta 
Ne  muore  1'  uom,  pria  che  sortisca  efFetto. 

Gio.  E  come,  figliuol  mio,  nanzi  alle  nozze 
Sostenevi  lontan  la  propria  vita  ? 

Pol.  Trovava  pur,  benche  di  rado,  alcuno        170 
Che,  cortese  e  benigno,  compartiva 
Qualche  poco  ahmento  al  viver  mio. 

Gio.  Non  ti  porgeano  a  tal  bisogno  aita 
Gli  amici  di  te  stesso,  e  di  tuo  padre  ? 

Pol.  E   sciocco,    madre    mia,   sciocco    e  chi 
crede  175 

Nelle  miserie  sue  trovar  amici. 

Gio.  Ti  doveva  giovar  la  nobiltade. 

Pol.  Ahi,  che  la  poverta  la  copre  e  oscura. 

Gio.   Esser  dee  sempre  alii  mortali  adunque, 
Pill  che  tutti  i  tesor,  la  patria  cara.  180 


Scene  I]  ^Ot^&tdi  203 

yoc.   What   helpeth    moste    in    suche        p^^  ^  ^^ 

adversitie  ?  help  in 

Po/.   Hope  helpeth  moste   to  comfort        miserye. 
miserie.  165 

yoc.   Hope  to    returne  from  whence  he   fyrst 

was  driven  ? 
Pol.  Yea,  hope  that  happeneth  oftentymes  to 
late, 
And  many  die  before  such  hap  may  fall. 

Joe.  And  howe  didst  thou  before  thy  manage, 
Sonne, 
Mainteyne  thy  lyfe,  a  straunger  so  bestad  ?  170 

Pol.   Sometyme  I    founde  (though  seldome  so 
it  were) 
Some  gentle  heart  that  coulde  for  curtesye 
Contente  himselfe  to  succour  myne  estate. 
yoc.  Thy  fathers  friends  and  thyne,  did  they 
not  helpe 
For  to  releeve  that  naked  neede  of  thyne  ?  175 

Pol.  "  Mother,   he    hath   a   foolishe        Few  frends 

fantasie  >n  miserye. 

That  thinkes  to  fynd  a  frende  in  miserie." 
yoc.  Thou  mightest    have  helpe  by   thy  no- 

bilitie. 
Pol.  "  Covered,  alas,  in  cloake  of  povertie  !  " 
yoc.   "  Wei    ought    we    then,    that    are    but 

mortall  heere,  180 

Above  all  treasure  counte  our  countrey  deare  :  " 

181    our.  Q3,  your. 


204  ^ioca^ta  [act  h. 

Ora  io  vorrei  saper,  dolce  figliuolo, 

Per  qual  cagion  ti  conducesti  in  Argo. 

Pol.   Mi  mosse  a  cio  la  fama,  ch'  all'  orecchie 

Mi  rapporto  che  Adrasto,  Re  d'  Argivi, 

Aveva  inteso  dagli  Oracol  come  185 

Due  figliuole,  che  belle,  e  sole  aveva 

Congiungerebbe  in  matrimonio  tosto 

A  un  Leone  e  a  un  Cinghial :   cosa,  che  tutto 

Gli  empi  V  animo  e  '1  cor  di  maraviglia. 

Gio.  A  te  che  appartenian  questi  animali?       190 
Pol.   Io  presi  augurio  dall'  insegna  mia, 

La  qual,  come  sapete,  e  d'  un  Leone  : 

Benche  io  posso  afFermar  che  solo  Giove 

Mi  conducesse  a  cosi  gran  ventura. 

Gio.   Come  avvenne,  o  figliuol,  si  raro  effetto  ?  195 
Pol.   Era  sparito  in  ogni  parte  il  giorno, 

E  la  terra  adombrava  oscuro  velo ; 

Quand'  io,  cercando  ove  alloggiar  la  notte 

Dopo  lungo  cammin,  stanco  pervenni 

A  una  picciol  loggetta  che  congiunta  200 

Era  di  fuori  alle  superbe  mura 

Delia  ricca  citta  del  vecchio  Adrasto : 


Scene  I]  JlOCH^ta  205 

Yea,  let  me  knowe,  my  sonne,  what  cause  thee 

moved 
To  goe  to  Grece  ? 

Pol.  The  flying  fame  that  thundred  in  myne 
eares, 
How  king  Adrastus,  governour  of  Greece,  185 

Was  answered  by  oracle,  that  he 
Shoulde  knitte  in  linkes  of  lawfull  mariage 
His  two  faire  daughters  and  his  onely  heires. 
One  to  a  lyon,  th'  other  to  a  boare  : 
An  answere  suche  as  eche  man  wondred  at.        190 
yoc.   And   how  belongs  this   answere  now  to 

thee  ? 
Pol.   I   toke  my  gesse   even    by   this  ensigne 
heere, 
A  lyon,  loe,  which  I  did  alwayes  beare  : 
Yet  thinke  I  not  but  Jove  alonely  brought 
These  handes  of  myne  to  suche  an  high  exploite.  195 
Joe.  And  howe  yet  came  it  to  this  straunge  ef- 
fect ? 
Pol.  The   shining  day  had   runne   his  hasted 
course. 
And  deawie  night  bespread  hir  mantell  darke, 
When  I  that  wandred,  after  wearie  toyle, 
To  seke  some  harbrough  for  myne  irked  limmes,ioo 
Gan  fynde  at  last  a  little  cabbin,  close 
Adjoyned  faste  unto  the  stately  walles, 
Where  king  Adrastus  held  his  royall  towTes. 


2o6  ^ioca^ta  [act  n. 

Quivi  appena  fui  giunto,  che  vi  giunse 

Un  altro  esule  ancor,  detto  Tideo ;  j 

II  qual,  volendo  me  cacciar  di  fuori  205  'j 

Di  quel  picciol  albergo,  ambi  venimmo 

A  stretta  guerra ;  et  il  rumor  fu  tale, 

Che  in  fine  il  Re  1'  intese :  il  che  gli  diede 

Occasion  di  celebrar  le  nozze ; 

Che  vedendo  1'  insegne  ad  ambi  noi  210 

Di  quelle  fere  che  gli  fur  predette, 

L'  uno  e  r  altro  per  genero  ci  elesse. 

Gio.  Bramo  saper  se  la  consorte  e  tale, 
Che  gloir  tu  ne  possa,  o  se  altrimente. 

Pol.  Certo  piu  bella,  ne  piu  saggia  donna        215 
Grecia  non  ha  della  mia  cara  Argia. 

Gio.  Com'  hai  potuto  indurre  a  prender  V  arme 
Cotanta  gente  a  si  dubbiosa  impresa  ? 

Pol.   Giurocci  Adrasto  di  riporne  in  breve 
Per  forza  d'  arme  nella  patria  nostra ;  220  i 

E  prima  me,  che  piu  ne  avea  bisogno : 
Onde  tutti  i  miglior  d'  Argo,  e  Micene 
Seguito  m'  hanno  a  tale  impresa  :  certo 
A  me  tanto  molesta,  quanto  degna. 


Scene  L]  3IOCa0ta  20; 

Scarce  was  I  there  in  quiet  well  [ycoucht,] 
But  thither  came  another  exile  eke,  „     , 

'  Smal  causes 

Named    1  ydeus,  who    strave  perforce        may  move 

to  drive  the  needy 

Mee  from  this  sorie  seate,  and  so  at  laste        ^°  contend. 
We  settled  us  to  fell  and  bloudie  fight, 
Whereof  the  rumour  grewe  so  great  foorthwith 
That  straight  the  king  enformed  was  therof,        210 
Who,  seeing  then  the  ensignes  that  wee  bare 
To  be  even  such  as  were  to  him  foresayde, 
Chose  eche  of  us  to  be  his  sonne  by  lawe, 
And  sithens  did  solemnize  eke  the  same. 

Joe.  Yet  woulde  I  know  if  that  thy  wyfe  be 
suche  215 

As  thou  canst  joy  in  hir  ?   or  what  she  is  ? 

Pol.   O  mother  deare,  fayrer  ne  wyser  dame 
Is  none  in  Greece.    Argia  is  hir  name. 

"Joe.   Howe  couldst  thou  to  this  doubtfull  en- 
terprise 
So  many  bring,  thus  armed  all  at  once  ?  220 

Pol.  Adrastus  sware  that  he  woulde  soone  re- 
store 
Unto  our  right  both  Tydeus  and  me  : 
And  fyrst  for  mee  that  had  the  greater  neede  ; 
Whereby  the  best  and  boldest  blouds  in  Greece 
Have  followed  me  unto  this  enterpryse,  225 

A  thing  both  just  and  grievous  unto  me, 

204  ycouc/it,  MS.,  Ql.    Q2,  Q3,  ycought. 


2o8  ^iocas^ta  [act  n. 

Molesta  dico ;  che  m'  incresce  e  duole  225 

D'  esser  astretto,  per  cagion  si  grave, 

Di  mover  guerra  alia  mia  patria  cara. 

M'  a  voi,  madre,  appartien  di  far  che  questa 

Cagion  si  tolga ;  e  trar  il  figlio  vostro 

Del  tristo  esilio,  e  la  Citta  d'  affanno.  230 

Altramente  io  vi  giuro  ch'  Eteocle, 

Che  isdegna  d'  accettarmi  per  fratello, 

In  breve  mi  vedra  di  lui  Signore. 

Io  dimando  lo  stato  di  cui  debbo 

La  meta  posseder,  s'  io  son  d*  Edipo,  235 

E  di  voi  figlio ;   che  pur  d'  ambi  sono. 

Per  questo  io  spero  ch'  in  difesa  mia, 

Oltre  r  arme  terrene,  anco  fia  Giove. 

Coro.  Ecco,  Reina,  che  Eteocle  viene ; 
Perocche  Dio  non  vuol  che  lungamente  240 

Regni  un  Tiranno ;  e  chi  regnar  dovrebbe 
Sia  tenuto  lontan  dalle  sue  case. 

239  Ecco  .   .   .  -viene.     This  line  is  placed  after  242  in  the 
**  Printers'  Errors"  of  O. 


Scene  I]  ^OtKfStd.  209 

Greevous  I  saye,  for  that  I  doe  lament 

To  be  constrayned  by  such  open  wrong 

To  warre  agaynst   myne  owne   deare   countrey 

feeres. 
But  unto  you  (O  mother)  dothe  pertain  230 

To  stinte  this  stryfe,  and  both  deliver  mee 
From  exile  now,  and  eke  the  towne  from  siege  : 
For  otherwise,  I  sweare  you  here  by  heavens, 
Eteocles,  who  now  doth  me  disdayne 
For  brother,  shortly  shall  see  me  his  lorde.  235 

I  aske  the  seate,  wherof  I  ought  of  right 
Possesse  the  halfe ;   I  am  Oedipus  Sonne 
And  yours,  so  am  I  true  Sonne  to  you  both. 
Wherfore  I  hope  that  as  in  my  defence 
The  worlde  will  weygh,  so  Jove  wil  me  assiste.240 

Eteocles  commeth  in  here  by  the  gates 
ElectnSi  himself  armed,  and  before  him 
XX  gentlemen  in  armour y  his  two  pages y 
IV  her  of  the  one  beareth  his  targe  ty  the 
other  his  helme. 

Chor.   Beholde,   O   queene,  beholde, 

O,  .  I  The  dames 

worthie  queene  !  did  love 

Unworthie  he,  Eteocles,  here  commes  ;        Poiynice 

So  woulde  the  gods  that   in   this  noble        ^^^  ^f^^ 

,  °  Eteocles. 

realme 
Shoulde  never  long  unnoble  tyrant  reigne, 
Or  that  with  wrong  the  right  and  doutlesse  heire245 
Shoulde  banisht  be  out  of  his  princely  seate. 


210  €>iocas?ta  [actii. 

Usate  voi  tante  ragioni,  e  tali, 

Ch'  uno,  e  T  altro  fratello  a  pace  torni. 

Eteocle.   Madre,  io  son  qui,  per  obbedir  venut0  245 
Alle  dimande  vostre  :   or  fate  ch'  io 
Sappia  quel  che  da  me  voi  ricercate 
Cosi  fuor  di  proposito,  et  a  tempo 
Che  piu  r  officio  mio  la  Citta  brama. 
Vorrei  saper  qual  utile  di  noi  250 

V  abbia  mosso  a  far  tregua  con  Argivi, 
Et  aprir  la  Cittade  al  mio  nimico. 

Gio.  Raffrena,  figliuol  mio,  1'  impeto  e  1'  ira 
Ch'  offuscano  la  mente  di  chi  parla 
In  guisa,  che  la  lingua,  a  mover  pronta,  255 


Scene  I]  J.OCa0ta  211 

Yet  thou,  O  queene,  so  fyle  thy  sugred  toung, 
And  with  such  counsell  decke  thy  mothers  tale, 
That   peace   may   both   the   brothers  hartes   in- 
flame. 
And  rancour  yelde,  that  erst  possesse  the  same.  250 
Eteocles.   Mother,  beholde,  your  hestes   for  to 
obey 
In  person  nowe  am  I  resorted  hither : 
In  haste  therefore   fayne  woulde  I   knowe  what 

cause 
With  hastie  speede  so  moved  hath  your  minde 
To  call  me  nowe  so  causelesse  out  of  time,        255 
When   common  wealth   moste  craves  my  onely 

ayde. 
Fayne  woulde  I  knowe  what  quent  commoditie 
Perswades  you  thus  to  take  a  truce  for  tyme. 
And  yeld  the  gates  wide  open  to  my  foe. 
The  gates  that  myght  our  stately  state  defende,26o 
And  now  are  made  the  path  of  our  decay. 

yoc.  "  Represse,    deare     son,     those     raging 
stormes  of  wrath, 
That  so  bedimme  the  eyes  of  thine  intent. 
As  when  the  tongue  (a  redv  instrument) 
Would    fayne   pronounce    the   meaning    of  the 

minde,  265 

256   my.     MS.,  myne.  264  the.     MS.,  thie. 

zdi)  fayne  pronounce.     MS.,  faynest  tell.  the  minde.     MS., 

thy  minde. 

264-66  As  'when  .    .    .   seemely  zvorde.      Omitted  in  Qi. 


212  ^ioca0ta  [acth. 

Di  rado  puo  formar  parola  onesta. 

Ma  quando  con  lentezza,  e  senza  sdegno 

L'  uom,  discorrendo  quel  che  dir  conviene, 

Voto  di  passion,  la  lingua  scioglie, 

Allor  escono  fuor  sagge  risposte,  260 

E  di  prudenza  ogni  suo  detto  e  pieno. 

Rasserena  il  turbato  aspetto,  o  figlio, 

E  non  drizzar  in  altra  parte  gli  occhi, 

Che  qui  non  miri  il  volto  di  Medusa, 

Ma  si  trova  presente  il  tuo  fratello.  265 

Tu,  Polinice,  ancor  riguarda  in  viso 

II  tuo  fratel ;   perche,  veggendo  in  quello 

La  propria  immago,  intenderai,  figliuolo, 

Che  neir  offender  lui  te  stesso  offendi. 

Ne  rimaner  gia  d'  ammonirti  voglio  270 

Che,  quando  avvien  che  due  fratelli  irati, 

Parenti,  o  amici,  son  ridotti  insieme 

D'  alcun  pietoso  che  ricerca  e  tenta 

270  d"  ammonirti  •voglio.     O,  d'  ammonito  io  voglio.      D,  d' 
ammonirti  io  voglio. 


Scene  I.]  31OCa0ta  213 

It  cannot  speake  one  honest  seemely  worde ; 
But  when  disdayne  is  shrunke  or  sette  asyde, 
And  mynde  of  man  with  leysure  can  discourse 
What  seemely  wordes  his  tale  may  best  beseeme, 
And  that  the  toung  unfoldes  without  affectes,     270 
Then  may  proceede  an  answere  sage  and  grave, 
And  every  sentence  sawst  with  sobernesse  :  " 
Wherefore  unbende   thine  angrie   browes,  deare 

childe, 
And  caste  thy  rolling  eyes  none  other  waye, 
That  here  doest  not  Medusaes  (a)  face        (a)  One  of 

beholde,  t^e  furies. 

But  him,  even  him,  thy  bloud  and  brother  deare. 
And  thou  behold,  my  Polinices  eke. 
Thy   brothers   face,  wherein  when   thou   mayst 

see 
Thine  owne  image,  remember  therewithall 
That  what  offence  thou   wouldst   to  him  were 

done,  ^8^ 

The  blowes  thereof  rebounde  unto  thy  selfe. 
And  hereof  eke  I  would  you  both  forewarne, 
When  frendes  or  brethren,  kinsfolke  or  allies, 
(Whose   hastie  hearts   some  angrie   moode  had 

moved) 
Be  face  to  face  by  some  of  pitie  brought,  285 

266   //  cannot   .    .    .    ivorde.      MS., 

Thie  swelling  hart  puft  up  with  wicked  ire, 
Can  scarce  procure  one  inward  loving  thought. 


214  aiocasfta  [acth. 

Di  poner  fine  alia  discordia  loro, 

Debbon  considerar  solo  all'  efFetto,  275 

Per  cui  venuti  son,  e  della  mente 

Dipor  del  tutto  le  passate  ofFese. 

Dunque  sarai  tu  primo,  o  Polinice, 

A  dir  le  ragion  tue ;   perocche  mosso 

Hai  contra  noi  queste  nimiche  genti,  280 

Per  ricevuta  ofFesa  del  fratello  ; 

Come  s'  odon  suonar  le  tue  parole  : 

Racconta  prima  tu  le  tue  ragioni ; 

E  giudice  di  queste  empie  contese 

Sara  alcun  Dio  pietoso ;  il  quale  io  prego  285 

Che  vi  spiri  nel  cuor  desio  di  pace. 

Pol.  Madre,  la  verita  sempre  esser  deve 
Semplice  e  nuda;  e  non  le  fa  mestiero 
Artificio  di  dir,  ne  di  parole; 

Perch'  ella  mai  da  se  non  e  diversa,  290 

E  serba  ogni  era  una  medesma  faccia. 


Scene  I.l 


31oca0ta 


215 


Rehersall  of 
olde  grudges 
doth  hinder 
al  reconcili- 
ation. 


Who  seekes  to  ende  their  discorde  and  debate, 
They  onely  ought   consider  well  the 

cause 
For  which   they  come,  and   cast  out 

of  their  minde 
For  evermore  the  olde  offences  past ; 
So    shall   sweete   peace   drive   pleading   out    of 

place.  290 

Wherfore  the  first  shall  Polinices  be, 
To  tell  what  reason  first  his  minde  did  rule, 
That  thus  our  walles  with  forrein  foes  enclosde 
In  sharpe  revenge  of  causelesse  wrongs  receiv'd. 
As  he  alledgeth,  by  his  brothers  doome  : 
And  of  this  wicked  woe  and  dire  (b) 

debate 
Some  god  of  pitie   be  the  equall  judge, 
Whome   I    beseeche    to    breath   in    both 

breasts 
A  yelding  heart  to  deepe  desire  of  peace. 

Pol.  "  My  woorthie  dame,  I  finde  that  tried 

truthe 
Doth  beste  beseeme  a  simple  naked 

tale, 
Ne  needes  to  be  with  painted  proces 

prickt, 
That  in  hir  selfe  hath  no  diversitie. 
But  alwayes  shewes  one  undisguised  face, 

294  ivrongs.     MS.  and  Q3,  wrong. 


295 

{b)  CrueU 
or  venge- 
able. 

your 


Truth  pleadeth 
simply  when 
falssehood 
useth  elo- 
quence. 


2l6  (3iOCn&tU  [Act  II. 

Ma  la  menzogna  cerca  ombra  e  colori 
Di  fallace  eloquenza;   e  da  se  stessa 
In  ogni  tempo  e  varia,  e  difFerente. 

10  r  ho  detto  piu  volte,  e  a  dir  ritorno  295 
Che,  affinche  non  avesser  sopra  noi 

Le  biasteme  del  padre  alcun  efFetto, 
Volentieri  io  partii  della  mia  terra, 
Convenendo  con  quest!  ch'  ei  tenesse 

11  bel  seggio  paterno  in  regnar  solo  300 
Per  tanto  spazio,  che  girasse  V  anno; 

II  qual  fornito,  io  succedessi  a  lui, 

E  questa  legge  si  serbasse  sempre. 

Egli,  benche  giurasse  uomini,  e  Dei 

D'  osservar  cotai  patti ;  nondimeno,  305 

Senza  rispetto  e  riverenza  alcuna 

Lei  sprezzando  e  calcando  sotto  a'  piedi, 

S'  usurpa  da  Tiran  la  parte  mia. 

Ma,  s'  egli  consentir  vuol  ch'  io  ritorni 


Scene  I]  3IOCa0ta  21 7 

Where  deepe  deceipt  and  lies  must  seeke  the 

shade,  305 

And  wrap  their  wordes  in  guilefull  eloquence, 
As  ever  fraught  with  contrarietie." 
So  have  I  often  sayde,  and  say  againe. 
That  to  avoide  our  fathers  foule  reproche 
And  bitter  curse,  I  parted  from  this  lande  310 

With  right  good  will,  yet  thus  with  him  agreed : 
That  while  the  whirling  wings  of  flying  time 
Might    roll    one    yeare    aboute    the    heavenly 

spheare. 
So  long  alone  he  might  with  peace  possesse 
Our  fathers  seate  in  princely   (<:)  Dia-        (c)  Crown 

deme,  or  sceptre. 

And    when    the  yeare  should    eke    his    course 

renue. 
Might  I  succeede  to  rule  againe  as  long. 
And  that  this  lawe  might  still  be  kept  for  aye, 
He  bound  him  selfe  by  vowe  of  solemne  othe. 
By  gods,  by  men,  by  heaven,  and  eke  by  earth  :  320 
Yet,  that  forgot,  without  all  reverence 
Unto  the  gods,  w^ithout  respect  to  right. 
Without  respect  that  reason  ought  to  rule, 
His  faith  and  troth  both  troden  under  foote, 
He  still  usurps,  most  tvrantlike,  with  wrong        325 
The  right  that  doth  of  right  to  me  belong. 
But  if  he  can  with  equall  doome  consent 
That  I  retourne  into  my  native  soyle 


2l8  ^tOCaS^ta  [Act  II. 

Nelle  mie  case,  e  tenga  a  par  di  lul  310 

Delia  Citta  comune  il  Real  freno ; 

Madre,  per  tutti  i  Dei  prometto  e  giuro 

Di  levar  questo  assedio,  e  parimente 

L'  esercito  mandar  onde  e  venuto. 

Ma,  s'  ei  non  lo  consente,  io  faro  quanto  315 

Ragion  ricerca  e  la  mia  causa  giusta  : 

Testimonio  nel  Ciel  mi  fanno  i  Dei, 

E  qui  nel  mondo  gli  uomini  mortali. 

Come  verso  Eteocle  in  alcun  tempo 

Non  son  mancato  a  quel  che  vuol  1'  onesto,        320 

Ed  ei  contra  ragion  del  mio  mi  priva. 

Questo  ch'  ho  detto,  o  madre,  e  appunto  quelle 

Che  dir  conviensi ;  e  tal,  ch'  io  m'  assecuro 

Che  non  men  presso  i  buon,  che  presso  i  rei, 

Esser  debba  approvato  in  mia  difesa.  325 

Coro,   Chi  puo  negar  che  le  parole  vostre, 
Signor,  non  siano  oneste,  e  di  voi  degne  ? 


Scene!.]  3l0Cafi?ta  219 

To  sway  with  him  alike  the  kingly  seate, 
And  evenly  beare  the  bridle  both  in  hand,  330 

Deare  mother  mine,  I  sweare  by  all  the  gods 
To  raise  with   speede  the   siege  from   these  our 

walles. 
And  send  the  souldiers  home  from  whence  they 

came  : 
Which  if  he  graunt  me  not,  then  must  I  do 
(Though    loth)  as   much    as  right    and  reason 

would,  335 

To   venge   my  cause,   that    is    both   good    and 

just. 
Yet  this  in  heaven  the  gods  my  records  be. 
And  here  in  earth  each  mortal!  man  may  know, 
That  never  yet  my  giltlesse  heart  did  fayle 
Brotherly  duetie  to  Eteocles,  34° 

And  that  causelesse  he  holdes   me  from  mine 

owne. 
Thus  have  I  said,  O  mother,  even  as  much 
As  needefuU  is,  wherein  I  me  assure 
That  in  the  judgement  both  of  good  and  badde 
My  words  may  seeme  of  reason  to  proceede,      345 
Constrained  thus  in  my  defence  to  speake. 
Chor.  None  may  denie,  O   pere  of  princely 

race, 
But  that  thy  words  are  honest,  good,  and  just. 
And  such  as  well  beseeme  that  tong  of  thine. 

in  my.    Q3,  may. 


220  ^iocas?ta  [act  ii. 

Eteo.  Se  quelle  che  ad  alcun  assembra  onesto 
Paresse  onesto  parimentl  a  tutti, 
Non  nasceria  giammai  contesa,  o  guerra.  330 

Ma  quanti  uomini  son,  tante  veggiamo 
Esser  1'  openion ;   e  quel  che  stima 
Altri  ragion,  ad  altri  e  ingiuria  e  torto. 
Dal  parer  di  costui  lungo  cammino, 
Madre,  (per  dir  il  vero)  e  il  mio  lontano .  335 

Ne  vi  voglio  occultar  che,  s'  io  potessi 
Su  nel  Cielo  regnar,  e  giu  in  Inferno, 
Non  mi  spaventeria  fatica,  o  affanno, 
Per  ritrovar  al  mio  desio  la  strada 
Di  gire  in  questo,  o  di  salir  in  quello :  340 

Onde  non  e  da  creder  ch'  io  commetta 
Che  del  dominio  ch'  io  posseggo  solo 
Altri  venga  a  occupar  alcuna  parte : 
Ch'  egli  e  cosa  da  timido  e  da  sciocco 
Lasciar  il  molto,  per  aver  il  poco.  345 

Oltre  di  questo,  ne  verria  gran  biasmo 
Al  nome  mio,  se  costui,  ch*  e  mosso 
Con  r  armi  per  guastar  i  nostri  campi,  I 


Scene  I]  3|OCa0Ca  221 

Eteo.  "  If  what  to  some  seemes  hon-  „    a 

Sundrye 

est,  good,  and  just,  men, 

Could  seeme  even  so  in  every  doubtfull  sundry 

•     J  minds. 

mind, 
No  darke  debate  nor  quarell  could  arise  : 
But  looke  !   how  many  men  so  many  minds, 
And  that,  that  one  man  judgeth  good  and  just. 
Some  other  deemes  as  deepely  to  be  wrong."      35s 
To  say  the  truth  (mother)  this  minde  of  mine 
Doth  fleete  full  farre  from  that  farfetch  of  his, 
Ne  will  I  longer  cover  my  conceit : 
If  I  could  rule  or  reigne  in  heaven  above. 
And  eke  commaund  in  depth  of  darksome  hell,  360 
No  toile  ne  travell  should  my  sprites  abashe 
To  take  the  way  unto  my  restlesse  will, 
To  climbe  aloft,  nor  downe  for  to  descend. 
Then  thinke  you  not  that  I  can  give  consent 
To  yeld  a  part  of  my  possession, 
Wherin  I  live  and  lead  the  (*)  mon-  *  Onely 

archie.  J^le. 

"  A  witlesse  foole  may  every  man  him  gesse 
That   leaves  the   more  and   takes    him    to    the 

lesse." 
With  this,  reproch  might  to  my  name  redound, 
If  he,  that  hath  with  forren  power  spoilde  370 

Our  pleasaunt  fields,  might  reave  from  me  per- 
force 

362  take.    MS.  and  Qi,  make. 
364  gi've.    MS.  and  Qi,  yelde. 


222  ^ioca^ta  [actii. 

Ottenesse  da  me  quel  che  vorria. 

Non  seguirebbe  ancor  minor  vergogna  35° 

A'  nostri  cittadin,  s'  io  per  paura 

Di  gente  Argiva,  concedessi  a  questo 

Poggiar  di  I'ebe  all'  onorata  altezza. 

In  fin,  non  dovev'  ei  cercar  fra  noi 

La  pace  e  1'  union  per  forza  d'  arme,  355 

Ma  con  preghi  e  umilta  :   perocche  spesso 

Fan  le  parole  quel  che  non  puo  il  ferro. 

Nondimeno,  s'  ei  vuol  nella  Cittade 

Abitar  come  figlio  di  Giocasta, 

Non  come  Rei  di  Tebe,  io  gliel  concedo ;  360 

Ma  non  istimi  gia  che,  mentre  io  posso 

Comandar  ad  altrui,  voglia  esser  servo. 

Mova  pur  contra  noi  le  genti  armate ; 

E  i  fuochi,  e  i  ferri  ;  ch'  io  per  me  giammai 

Non  son  per  consentir  che  meco  regni :  365 

Che  s'  egli  si  convien  per  altro  effetto, 

Si  convien  molto  piu  (se  V  uomo  e  saggio) 

Per  cagion  di  regnar  romper  la  legge. 


I 


Scene  I.]  3l0Cafi?ta  223 

What  so  he  list  by  force  of  armes  demand. 

No  lesse  reproofe  the  citizens  ensewes, 

If  I,  for  dread  of  Greekish  hosts,  should  graunt 

That  he  might  climbe  to  height  of  his  desire.      375 

In  fine,  he  ought  not  thus  of  me  to  crave 

Accord  or  peace  with  bloudy  sword  in  hand, 

But  with  humilitie  and  prayer  both  : 

For  often  is  it  seene,  and  proofe  doth  teach, 

"  Swete  words  prevaile  where  sword  and  fire  do 

faile."  380 

Yet  this,  if  here  within  these  stately  walles 
He  liste  to  live,  the  sonne  of  Oedipus, 
And  not  as  king  of  Thebes,  I  stand  content. 
But  let  him  thinke,  since  now  I  can  commaunde, 
This  necke  of  mine  shall  never  yeld  to  yoke       385 
Of  servitude  :   let  bring  his  banners  splayde. 
Let  speare  and  shield,  sharpe  sworde  and  cynd- 

ring  flames 

Procure  the  parte  that  he  so  vainely  claimes  : 

As  long  as  life  within  this  brest  doth  last, 

I    nill   (*)    consent    that    he     should 

•  •  1  *  Wilnot. 

reigne  with  me. 

If  lawe  of  right  may  any  way  be  broke, 

"  Desire  of  rule  within  a  climbing  brest,         Tullyes 

To  breake  a  vow  may  beare  the  buckler        opmyon. 

best." 

380  do  faile.   MS.  and  Qi  omit  do.        387  fiames.    MS.,  flame. 


224  ^ioca^ta  [acth. 

Coro.   Chi  delP  onesto  fuori  esce  con  I'opra 
£  ragion  ch'  esca  ancor  con  le  parole.  37c 

Gio.  Figliuol  mio,la  vecchiezza,  ch'  esser  suole 
Cinta  da  molti  afFanni,  ha  questo  bene ; 
Che  per  la  lunga  esperienza  vede, 
E  intende  molte  cose  che  non  sanno 
E  non  veggono  i  giovani.    Deh,  lascia  375 

L*  ambizion,  ch'  e  la  piu  cruda  peste 
Che  ne  infetti  le  menti  de'  mortal! : 
Ella  nelle  Cittadi,  e  nei  palagi 
Entra  sovente,  e  sempre  seco  adduce, 
E  lascia  al  possessor  danno  e  ruina.  38c 

Questa  distrugge  1'  amicizia:   questa 
Rompe  le  leggi,  la  concordia  abbatte, 
E  sossopra  ne  volge  imperii  e  regni. 
Or  col  suo  fele  t'  avvelena  tanto, 
Che  r  intelletto  infermo  e  fatto  cieco  385 

Al  proprio  ben :  ma  tu  la  scaccia,  o  figlio, 


Scene  I]  3(lOCa0ta  225 

Cho.  "  Who  once  hath  past  the  bounds  of 
honestie 
In  ernest  deedes,  may  passe  it  well  in  words."    39^ 

yoc.   O  Sonne,  amongst  so  many  miseries 
This  beneiite  hath  croked  age,  I  find. 
That,  as   the    tracke    of   trustlesse    time    hath 

taught, 
"  It  seeth  much  and  many  things  discernes    Youth 
Which  recklesse  youth  can  never  rightly       sTmuch^ 

judge."  as  age. 

Oh,  cast  aside  that  vaine  ambition, 

That  corosive,  that  cruell  pestilence. 

That  most  infects  the  minds  of  mortall  men  : 

"  In   princely   palace  and    in    stately  Ambition 

tOWneS  doth  de- 

It  crepeth  ofte,  and  close  with  it  con-  ^^'""^f  ^}' 

r  '  equalytie 

vayes  doth  mayn- 

(To  leave  behind  it)  damage  and  de-  tey^e  ai 

^  ^  ^  things. 

cayes :  ^ 

By  it  be  love  and  amitie  destroyde. 
It   breakes    the    lawes,  and    common    concord 

beates, 
Kingdomes  and  realmes  it  topsie  turvie  turnes." 
And  now  even  thee  hir  gall  so  poisoned  hath      410 
That  the  weake  eies  of  thine  affection 
Are  blinded  quite,  and  see  not  to  them  selfe. 
But,   worthie  childe,  drive    from   thy   doubtfull 

brest 


226  ^iocafl?ta  [acth. 

Omai  del  core,  e  'n  vece  d'  ella  abbraccia 
U  equita  :   questa  le  Citta  mantiene, 
E  lega  r  uom  con  stretto,  e  saldo  nodo 
D'  arnica  fune  che  non  rompe  mai. 
Questa  e  propria  deiruomo;  e  chi  possede 
Vie  piu  di  quel  che  gli  convien,  acquista 
Odio  a  se  stesso,  e  talor  pena  e  morte. 
Questa  divise  fe  con  giusta  meta 
Le  ricchezze,  e  i  terreni,  e  questa  eguali 
Rende  i  giorni  alle  notti :   e  1'  esser  vinto 
Ora  il  lume  dall'  ombra,  or  dalla  luce 
II  fosco  manto  che  la  notte  spiega, 
Ad  alcun  d'  essi  invidia  non  apporta. 
Dunque,  se  '1  giorno,  e  se  la  notte  serve, 
L*  uno,  e  r  altra  cedendo,  all'  util  nostro  j 
Ben  del  tu  sostener  che  '1  tuo  fratello 
Abbia  teco  egual  parte  di  quel  regno 
Che  piacque  al  Ciel  di  far  tra  voi  comune. 
II  che  se  tu  non  fai,  dove,  figliuolo. 
La  giustizia  avra  luogo ;   senza  cui 
Qua  giu  non  dee,  ne  si  puo  regger  stato? 

388  equita.    O,  egualita. 


Scene  L]  3IOCa0ta  2  2; 

This  monstrous  mate,  in  steade  wherof  embrace 
"  Equalitie,  which  stately  states  defends,  415 

And  binds  the  minde  with  true  and  trustie  knots 
Of  frendly  faith  which  never  can  be  broke  ; 
This,  man  of  right  should  properly  possesse ; " 
And  who  that  other  doth  the  more  embrace 
Shall  purchase  paine  to  be  his  just  reward,  420 

By  wrathfull  wo  or  else  by  cruell  death. 
"  This  first  devided  all  by  equall  bonds 
What  so  the  earth  did  yeld  for  our  availe  : 
This  did  devide  the  nightes  and  dayes  alike. 
And  that  the  vaile  of  darke  and  dreadfull  night, 425 
Which  shrowds   in   misty  clouds   the   pleasaunt 

light, 
Ne  yet  the  golden  beames  of  Phoebus  rayes 
Which  cleares  the  dimmed  ayre  with  gladsome 

gleams. 
Can  yet  heape  hate  in  either  of  them  both." 
U  then  the  dayes  and  nightes  to  serve  our  turne43o 
Content  themselves  to  yeld  each  other  place. 
Well  oughtest  thou  with  waightie  dome  to  graunt 
Thy  brothers  right  to  rule  the  reigne  with  thee, 
Which  heavens  ordeyned  common  to  you  both : 
If  so  thou  nill,  O  sonne,  O  cruell  sonne,  435 

"  In    whose    high    brest     may    justice        if  th   h   d 

builde  hir  boure  be  eviu  the 

When   princes  harts  wide  open  lye  to       body  cannot 

J  j>  be  good. 

wrong  r  ^ 


2  28  €>ioca0ta  [acth. 

Perche  apprezzi  1'  efFetto  di  Tiranno  ? 

E  con  r  ingiuria  altrui  di  render  sazia 

L'  ingorda  mente  ?  Ahi,  che  non  ben  istimi        410 

Che  '1  comandar  altrui  sia  degna  loda, 

Quando  V  onesto  non  si  tien  in  piede  : 

Egli  e  vano  desio  posseder  molto, 

Per  esser  molto  combattuto  sempre 

Da  sospetto,  d'  afFanno,  e  da  paura.  415 

Se  cerchi  quel  ch'  e  copia,  ella  per  certo 

Altro  non  e,  che  nome  :   che  aver  quanto 

Basta  r  uso  mortal  naturalmente  i 

Appaga  r  uom,  s'  egli  e  modesto  e  saggio  : 

E  cotesti  mortal  caduchi  beni  420 

Non  son  proprii  d'  alcun,  ma  espressi  doni  J 

Che  con  benigna  man  Giove  comparte,  ^ 

Perche  ne  siam  di  lor  sempre  ministri. 

E  come  ce  gli  da,  cosi  col  tempo, 

Quando  gli  place,  ce  gli  toglie  ancora,  425 

E  vuol  ch'  ogn'  or  da  lui  gli  conosciamo ; 

Onde  cosa  non  e  stabile  e  ferma  j 

Ma  suol  cangiarsi  col  girar  dell'  ore. 


Scene  I.]  3|0CaS?ta  229 

Why  likes  thee  so  the  tipe  of  tyrannic, 
With  others  losse  to  gather  greedy  gaine? 
"  Alas  !   how  farre  he  wanders  from  the  truth     440 
That  compts  a  pompe  all  other  to  command, 
Yet  can  not  rule  his  owne  unbridled  will ; 
A  vaine  desire  much  riches  to  possesse, 
Whereby  the  brest  is  brusde  and  battered  still 
With     dread,    with     daunger,    care     and     cold 

suspecte.  445 

"  Who  seekes  to  have  the  thing  we  call  inough, 
Acquainte  him  first  with   contentation.  Content 

For     plenteousnesse     is    but    a    naked  '^  "'^^«- 

name  ; 
And  what  suffiseth  use  of  mortall  men 
Shall  best  apay  the  meane  and  modest  hearts.      45° 
These   hoorded    heapes   of   golde   and    worldly 

wealth 
Are  not  the  proper  goods  of  any  one. 
But   pawnes  which   Jove    powres    out       Riches  are 

aboundantly  but  borow- 

That    we    likewise    might     use    them       ^'^  ^^■^''^• 

equally  ; 
And  as  he  seemes  to  lend  them  for  a  time,  455 

Even  so  in  time  he  takes  them  home  agavne, 
And  would  that  we  acknowledge  every  houre. 
That  from  his  handes  we  did  the  same  receive: 
There  nothing  is  so  firme  and  stayde  to  man 
But   whyrles    about   with    wheeles   of  restlesse 

time."  460 


230  €>ioca0ta  [act  ii. 

Ora,  s'  io  voglio  addimandarti  quale 
Di  due  condizioni  elegger  brami  :  430 

O  serbar  la  Tirannide  che  tieni, 
O  conservar  la  tua  Citta  j  dirai 
La  tirannide  ?   O  figlio,  empia  risposta  : 
Che  s'  avverra  che  vincano  i  nemici  j 
Allor,  veggendo  saccheggiarne  Tebe,  435 

E  violar  le  Vergini,  e  menarne 
Una  gran  parte  i  vincitor  captiva ; 
Allor  conoscerai  quanto  sovente 
L'  opulenzie,  gli  scettri,  e  le  corone 
Apportano  perdendole  piii  noia,  440 

Che  non  fan  possedendole  contento. 
Per  conchiuder,  figliuol,  T  ambizione 
E  quella  che  t'  offende  :   e,  se  di  lei 
Non  ne  liberi  il  cor,  ti  fo  secure 
Che  al  fin  te  ne  vedrai  tardi  pentito.  445 

Coro.  Allor  che  nulla  il  pentimento  giova. 


Scene  I.]  31OCa0ta  23 1 

Now  if  I  should  this  one  thing  thee  demaunde, 
Which  of  these  two   thou  wouldest   chuse   to 

keepe, 
The  towne  quiet  or  unquiet  tyrannie  ? 
And    wouldest    thou    say,    I    chuse    my    kingly 

chayre  ? 

0  witlesse  answere  sent  from  wicked  heart !       465 
For  if  so  fall  (which  mightie  God  defende) 
Thine     enimies    hand     should     overcome    thy 

might, 
And  thou  shouldest  see  them  sacke  the  towne 

of  Thebes, 
The    chastest     virgins     ravished     for         .. 

o  More  care 

wrecke,  to  loose 

The  worthy  children  in  captivitie,  than  piesure 

"  Then  shouldest  thou  feele  that  seep-  °  posses. 

ter,  crowne,  and  wealth 
Yeelde  deeper  care  to  see  them  tane  away 
Than  to  possesse  them  yeldeth  deepe  content." 
Now  to  conclude,  my  sonne  :   Ambition 
Is  it  that  most  offends  thy  blynded  thought ;       475 
Blame  not  thy  brother,  blame  ambition, 
From  whome  if  so  thou  not  redeeme  thy  selfe, 

1  feare  to  see  thee  buy  repentance  deare. 

Cho.  Yea,   deare,    too    deare,   when    it    shal 
come  too  late. 

475    Is  it  .    .    .   thought.    MS.,  Is  it  that  most  of  all  offends  thy 
thought.    Qi,  Is  it  that  most  offendes  thy  thought. 


232  ^ioca0Ca  [acth. 

Gio.  Quanto  a  te,  Polinice,  io  voglio  dire  | 

Che  sciocco  Adrasto,  e  tu  imprudente  fosti ; 
Quello  a  gradir  alle  tue  insane  voglie, 
E  tu  a  mover  le  genti  contro  Tebe.  45° 

Or  dimmi  un  poco  :   se  la  Citta  prendi, 
(II  che  mai  non  concedano  gli  Iddii) 
Deh,  quai  spoglie,  quai  palme,  e  quai  trofei 
Innalzerai  d'  aver  la  patria  presa  ? 
Quai  titol  degni  d'  immortale  onore  455 

Scriver  farai  per  testimonio  eterno 
Di  cotal  opra  ?   O  figlio,  o  figlio,  questa 
Gloria  dal  nome  tuo  resti  lontana. 
Ma,  s*  avverra  che  perditor  ne  sii, 
Con  quai  fronte  potrai  tornar  in  Argo,  460     j 

Lasciando  qui  di  molta  gente  morta  ? 
Malediratti  ognun,  come  cagione 
Del  danno  suo,  rimproverando  Adrasto 
D'  averti  eletto  alia  sua  figlia  sposo ; 


Scene  I.]  3|OCa0ta  233 

y<?c.  And  now  to  thee,  my  Polinices  deare,     480 
I  say  that  silHe  was  Adrastus  reade, 
And  thou,  God  knowes,  a  simple  sillie  soule  j 
He  to  be  ruled  by  thy  heady  wil, 
And  thou  to  warre  against  the  Thebane  walls. 
These  walls,  I  say,  whose  gates  thy  selfe  should 

garde.  4^5 

Tell  me,  I  pray  thee,  if  the  citie  yeelde. 
Or  thou  it  take  by  force  in  bloudie  fight 
(Which  never  graunt  the  gods,  I  them  beseeke). 
What  spoyles  ?    what  palmes  ?    what  signe   of 

victorie 
Canst  thou  set  up  to  have  thy  countrie        small  glory 

WOOnne  ?  for  a  rebel 

What  title  worthie  of  immortall  fame  ^°  '^^  ^'^ 

owne 

Shall  biased  be  in  honor  of  thy  name  ?        countrey 
O    Sonne,    deare    sonne,    beleeve    thy       spoyied. 

trustie  dame. 
The  name  of  glorie  shall  thy  name  refuse. 
And  flie  full  farre  from  all  thy  fonde  attemptes.495 
But  if  so  fall  thou  shouldst  be  overcome. 
Then   with    what    face    canst   thou   returne    to 

Greece 
That  here  hast  lefte  so  many  Greekes  on  grounde  ? 
Eache  one  shall  curse  and  blame  thee  to  thy  face, 
As  him  that  onely  caused  their  decaye,  500 

And  eke  condemne  Adrastus  simple  heade 
That  such  a  pheere  had  chosen  for  his  childe. 


234  €^iocagta  [act  ii. 

E  n*  avverra  ch*  in  un  medesmo  tempo  465 

Sarai  poi  d'  Argo,  e  della  patria  escluso  j 
La  qual  puoi  ricovrar  senza  fatica, 
Se  giu  lo  sdegno  e  V  alterezza  poni. 

Coro.   Dei,  la  vostra  merce  non  consentite 
A  questi  mali,  e  tra  i  fratei  nimici  470 

La  bramata  concordia  omai  ponete. 

Eteo.   Certo  queste  non  son  fra  noi  contese, 
Madre,  da  terminar  con  le  parole. 
Voi  le  ragioni,  et  io  consumo  il  tempo, 
Et  ogni  vostro  studio  e  posto  indarno :  475 

Perch'  io  v'  afFermo  che  tra  noi  non  fia 
Pace  giammai,  se  non  con  quelle  istesse 
Condizion  che  poco  innanzi  ho  dette ; 
Cioe,  di  rimaner,  mentre  ch'  io  vivo, 
E  Principe,  e  Signor,  e  Re  di  Tebe :  480 

Onde  lasciando  tante  sciocche  e  vane 
Ragioni,  e  ammonizion  folli  da  parte, 
Concedete  ch'  io  vadi  ov'  e  bisogno. 
E  tu  levati  fuor  di  queste  mura, 
Altramente  sarai  di  vita  privo.  485 

Pol.   Chi  fia  colui  che  me  tolga  di  vita, 
Che  in  un  punto  di  lei  non  esca  meco  ? 


Scene  I.]  31OCa0ta  235 

So  may  it  fall,  in  one  accursed  houre, 

That  thou  mayst  loose  thy  wife  and  countrie 

both, 
Both  which  thou  mayst  with  little  toyle  attaine,505 
If  thou  canst  leave  high   minde  and   darke  dis- 

daine. 
Cho.   O    mightie    gods    of  goodnesse,   never 

graunt 
Unto  these  evilles,  but  set  desired  peace 
Betwene  the  hearts  of  these  two  friendly  foes. 
Eteo.  The    question   that    betwixt   us  two   is 

growen,  510 

Beleeve  me,  mother,  can  not  ende  with  words  : 
You  waste  your  breath,  and  I  but  loose  my  time, 
And  all  your  travell  lost  and  spent  in  vaine : 
For  this  I  sweare,  that  peace  you  never  get 
Betweene  us  two,  but  with  condition  515 

That  whilst  I  live,  I  will  be  lord  of  Thebes. 
Then  set  aside  these  vaine  forwasted  wordes. 
And  yeelde  me  leave  to  go   where   neede   doth 

presse  : 
And  now,  good  sir,  get  you  out  of  these  walles, 
Unlesse  you  meane  to  buy  abode  with  bloude.    520 
Pol,   And  who  is  he  that  seekes  to  have   my 

bloude. 
And  shall  not  shed  his  owne  as  fast  as  myne  ? 

521   And  .    .    .  bloude.     MS.  adds  in  margin,  M<fy  draiv  theyr 
STVordes. 


236  ^iocasfta  [act  h. 

Eaco.  Ei  t'  e  da  presso,  e  tu  gli  sei  davanti : 
E  questa  spada  ne  fara  1'  efFetto. 

Pol.  E  questa  ancora  in  un  medesmo  tempo.  490 

Gio.   O  figli,  o  figli,  riponete  1'  arme, 
E  pria  che  trapassar  le  vostre  carni, 
Aprite  a  me  con  due  ferite  il  petto. 

Pol,   Ben  sei  di  poco  cor,  timido,  e  vile : 
E  questo  avvien,  che  le  grandezze  fanno  495 

Air  uom  troppo  tener  la  vita  cara. 

Eteo.  Se  a  combatter  con  uom  timido  avevi, 
Che  ti  accadeva,  uomo  ignorante  e  vile, 
Di  condur  tante  genti  a  questa  impresa  ? 

Pol.  II  cauto  Capitan  sempre  e  migliore  500 

Del  temerario ;  e  tu,  piii  che  ciascuno, 
Vile,  ignorante,  e  temerario  sei. 


1 


Scene  I.]  3|0Cafifta  237 

Eteo.  By  thee  he  standes,   and  thou  standst 
him  before : 
Loe  here  the  sworde  that  shall  perfourme  his 
worde  ! 
Pol.  And  this  shall  eke   mainteine   my  right- 
full  cause.  525 
Joe.   O  sonnes,  dear  sonnes,  away  with  glit- 
tring  armes  : 
And  first,  before  you  touch  cache  others  flesh, 
With  doubled  blowes  come  pierce  this  brest  of 
mine! 
Pol.  Ah,    wretch,    thou    art     both    vile    and 
cowarde  like ; 
Thy  high  estate  esteemes  thy  life  to  deare.           530 
Eteo.   If  with  a  wretch  or   coward  shouldst 
thou  fighte. 
Oh  dastard  villaine,  what  first  moved  thee 
With  swarmes  of  Greekes  to  take  this  enter- 
prise ? 
Pol.  For  well   I  wist  that  cankred  heart  of 
thine 
Coulde  safely  kepe  thy  heade  within  these  walles,  535 
And   flee   the   fielde  when  combate    should  be 
callde. 

524  ivorde.    MS.,  wordes. 

526   0  sonnes  .    .    .   armes.      MS.  adds  in  margin,  theyr  mother 
steppes  betivene  them. 


238  ^ioca^ta  [act  ii. 

Eteo.  Polinice,  la  tregua  t*  assecura 
A  formar  tai  parole  :  e  ben  ti  deve 
Assecurar,  che,  se  non  fosse  questa,  505 

Avrei  gia  tinto  il  ferro  entro  il  tuo  sangue, 
E  sparsone  di  lui  questo  terreno. 

Pol.   Del  mio  non  spargerai  tanto,  ch'  assai 
Piu  non  isparga  anch'  io  del  sangue  tuo. 

Gio.  Deh,  iigli,  figli,  per  pieta  restate.  510 

Coro.  Oime,  chi  vide  mai  cosa  piu  fiera  ? 

Pol.   Rendimi,  ladro,  il  mio  che  tu  mi  tieni, 
Non  isperar  giammai  di  regger  Tebe  : 
Qui  nulla  e  piu  di  tuo,  ne  sara  mai. 
Partiti  tosto. 

Pol.  O  Patrii  altari. 

Eteo.  I  quali  515 

Tu  sei  venuto  a  dipredar. 

Pol.  O  Dei, 

Ascoltate  V  onesta  causa  mia. 


Scene  I.]  3IOCa0ta  239 

Eteo.  This  truce  assureth  thee,  Polynices, 
And   makes    thee   bolde   to   give   such    hosting 

wordes  : 
So  be  thou  sure  that  had  this  truce  not  bene, 
Then  long  ere  this  these  handes  had  bene  em- 

brude,  540 

And  eke  this  soyle  besprinkled,  with  thy  bloude. 
Pol.  Not  one  small  drop  of  my  bloude  shalt 
thou  spill. 
But  buy  it  deare  against  thy  cankred  will. 

Joe.   O  sonnes,  my  sonnes,  for  pittie  yet  re- 
fray  ne. 
Cho.   Good  gods,  who  ever  sawe  so  strange  a 
sight?       ^         ^  .545 

True  love  and  frindship  both  be  put  to  flight. 
Pol.   Yelde,  villein,  yelde  my  right  which  thou 

witholdst. 
Eteo.   Cut  of  thy  hope  to  reigne  in  Thebane 
walles  ; 
Nought  hast  thou   here,  nor  nought  shal  ever 

have : 
Away ! 

Pol.  O,  aultars  of  my  countrie  soyle.  550 

Eteo.   Whome  thou  art  come  to  spoyle  and  to 

deface. 
Pol.   O,  gods,  give  eare  unto  my  honest  cause. 

537  assureth.     MS.  and  Qi,  assured. 
547  ivitholdst.     Qi,  with-holds. 


240  aiocas?ta  [act  ii. 

Eteo.  Di  far  con  1'  armi  alia  sua  patria  guerra. 

Pol.  O  sacri  templi  de'  celesti  Dei. 

Eteo.  Che,   per  T  opre    tue    inique,   in   odio 

t'  hanno.  520 

Pol.  Cacciato  io  son  della  mia  patria  fuori. 

Eteo.  Di  cui  per  cacciar  me  venuto  sei. 

Pol.  Punite,  o  Dei,  questo  Tiranno  ingiusto. 

Eteo.  In  Argo  prega,  e  non  in  Tebe  i  Dei. 

Pol.   Ben  sei  piu  d'  ogni  fera  empio,  e  crudele.  525 

Eteo.  Non  alia  patria,  come  tu,  nemico. 

Pol,  Posciache  me  de'  proprii  alberghi  spingi. 

Eteo.  Di  vita  ancor,  se  a  dipartir  piii  tardi. 

Pol.  Padre,  udite  1'  ingiuria  ch'  io  ricevo. 

•Eteo.  Quasi  ascose  gli  sian  le  tue  belle  opre.  530 

Pol.  E  voi,  mia  madre  .   .   . 

Eteo.  Taci,  che  non  sei 

Degno  di  nominar  di  madre  il  nome. 

Pol.  O  Citta  cara. 

Eteo.  Come  arrivi  in  Argo, 

Chiama,  in  vece  di  lei,  1'  atra  palude. 

534   atra.  O,  altra. 


Scene  I]  '^OtU^tU  24 1 

Eteo.  With    forreine    power  his  countrie  to 

invade. 
Pol.   O  holy  temples  of  the  heavenly  gods. 
Eteo.  That  for  thy  wicked  deedes  do  hate  thy 

name.  555 

Poi.   Out  of  my   kingdome  am   I   driven   by 

force. 
Ete.   Out  of  the  which  thou  camst  me  for  to 

drive. 
Pol.   Punish,  O  gods,  this  wicked  tyrant  here. 
Eteo.   Pray  to  the  gods  in  Greece  and  not  in 

Thebes. 
Pol.   No  savage  beast  so  cruell  nor  unjust.       560 
Eteo.   Not  cruel  to  my  countrie  like  to  thee. 
Pol.   Since  from  my  right   I   am   with   wrong 

deprived. 
Eteo.   Eke  from  thy  life,  if  long  thou  tarie  here. 
Pol.  O  father,  heare  what  injuries  I  take! 
Eteo.   As  though  thy  divelishe  deedes  were  hid 

from  him.  565 

Pol.   And  you,   mother ! 

Eteo.  Have  done  :  thou  not  deservest 

With  that  false  tong  thy  mother  once  to  name. 
Pol.   O  deare  citie  ! 

Eteo.  When  thou  arivest  in  Greece, 

Chuse  out  thy  dwelling  in  some  mustie  moores. 

557  camst  me  for  to  dri-ve.     MS.,   comest  me  to  drjA'e,    Qi, 
earnest  me  to  drive. 


242  ^iocas^ta  [act  ii. 

Pol.  lo  mi  diparto,  e  nel  partirmi,  io  lodo,       535 
Madre,  il  vostro  buon  animo. 

Gio.  Ah,  figliuolo. 

Eteo.   Esci  oggimai  della  Citta. 

Pol.  Non  posso 

Non  obbedirti  a  questa  volta.  Bene 
Ti  vo'  pregar  che  mi  conceda  ch'  io 
Vegga  mio  padre. 

Eteo.  Io  non  ascolto  preghi  540 

Del  mio  nemico. 

Pol.  Ove  son  le  mie  care 

Dolci  sorelle  ? 

Eteo.  Come  puoi  nomarle, 

Sendo  di  tutta  Tebe  oste  comune  ? 
Sappi  che  non  avrai  grazia  giammai 
Di  veder  quelle,  e  nessun  altro  amico.  545 

Pol.   Rimanetevi  in  pace,  o  cara  madre. 

Gio.   Come  poss'  io  senza  di  te,  figliuolo  ?.  .  . 

Pol.   Omai  pijj  non  son  io  vostro  figliuolo. 

Gio.  Lassa,    ch'    ad    ogni    mal     creommi    il 
Cielo. 

Pol.  La  cagion  e  costui  che  si  m'  offende.        550 

Eteo,  Via  maggior  e  1'  ingiuria  ch'  ei  mi  face. 


Scene  I.]  '^OtU&U  243 

Poi.  I  must  departe,and  parting  must  I  prayse,57o 
Oh  deare  mother,  the  depth  of  your  good  will. 
"Joe.   O  Sonne  ! 

Eteo.  Away,  I  say,  out  of  these  walls. 

Pol.   I  can  not  chuse  but  must  thy  will  obey, 
Yet  graunt  me  once  my  father  for  to  see. 

Eteo.   I  heare  no  prayers  of  my  enemie.  575 

Pol.   Where  be  my  sweete  sisters  ? 
Eteo.  And  canst  thou  yet 

With  shamelesse  tong  once  name  thy  noble  race 
That  art  become  a  common  foe  to  Thebes  ? 
Be  sure  thou  shall  them  never  see  againe. 
Nor  other  friend  that  in  these  walls  remaine.       580 
Pol.   Rest  you  in  peace,  O   worthy  mother 

myne  ! 
yoc.   Howe  can  that  be,  and  thou,  my  joye,  in 

warre  ? 
Pol.   Henceforth  n'am  I  your  joy  ne  yet  your 

Sonne. 
yoc.   Alas,  the   heavens   me  whelme  with  all 

mishap. 
Pol.   Lo,  here  the  cause  that   stirreth  me  by 

wrong.  ^g^ 

Eteo.   Much   more  is   that  he  profereth  unto 
me. 


573  "u'in.    MS.,  voice.         579  shall.    MS.,  Qi,  Q3,  shalt. 

580  remaine.    MS.,  remaynes. 

583    n''am  I.    MS.,  ne  I  corrected  later  to  I  nam. 


244  ^ioca0ta  [act  h. 

Pol.  Dimmi   se    verrai    fuor  con    1'  armi    in 

mano. 
Eteo.  lo  verro,  si  :  perche  dimandi  questo  ? 
Pol.   Perche  conviene,o  che  m'  ancidi,o  ch'  io 
Spenga  la  sete  mia  dentro  il  tuo  sangue.  555 

Eteo.   Certo  non  minor  sete  e  nel  mio  core. 
Gio.  Misera  me,  che    e  quel  ch'  intendo,  o 

Com'  esser  puo,  com'  esser  puo,  figliuoli, 
Ch'  entri  cotanta  rabbia  in  due  fratelli  ? 

Eteo.  Ve  lo  dimostrera  tosto  1'  effetto.  560 

Gio.  Ah,  non  dite  cosi,  non  dite,  o  figli. 

Pol.  Tutta  perisca  omai  la  Real  casa. 

Coro.  Lo  cessi  Dio. 

Eteo.  Ah,  troppo  lento  sdegno  : 

Perche  dimoro  a  insanguinar  cotesta  ?   .   .   . 
Ma,  per  minor  suo  mal,  vo'  dipartirmi,  565 

E  ritornando,  s'  io  vel  trovo,  allora 
A  si  gravi  litigi  io  porro  fine. 

Pol.   Cari  miei  Cittadini,  e  voi,  del  Cielo 


Scene!.]  31OCa0ta  245 

Pol.  Well,  speake  ;  darest  thou  come  armed  to 

the  fielde  ? 
Eteo.   So   dare   I   come ;    wherfore   dost   thou 

demaunde  ? 
Pol.   For  needs  or  thou  must  ende  this  life  of 
mine, 
Or    quenche    my    thirst   with   pouring  out  thy 

bloud.  590 

Eteo.  Ah,  wretch,  my  thirst  is  all  as  drie  as 

thine. 
yoc.  Alas  and  welaway,  what  heare  I,  sonnes  ? 
How  can  it  be  ?   deare  children,  can  it  be 
That  brethrens  heartes  such  rancour  should  en- 
rage ? 
Eteo.   And  that  right   soone  the  proofe  shall 

playnely  shew.  595 

Joe.   Oh,  say   not  so,  yet   say   not   so,  deare 

sonnes ! 
Pol.   O  royal  race  of  Thebes,  now  take  thine 

ende  ! 
Cho.   God  shield  ! 

Eteo.  O,  slow  and  sluggish  heart  of  mine. 
Why  do  I  stay  t'embrew  these  slothfull  hands  ? 
But  for  his  greater  griefe  I  will  departe,  600 

And  at  returne,  if  here  I  finde  my  foe. 
This  hastie  hande  shall  ende  our  hote  debate. 

Eteocles  here  goeth  out  by  the  gates  Electrce. 
Pol.   Deare  citizens,  and  you  eternall  gods. 


246  ^iocasfta  [act  ii. 

Eterni  Dei,  fatemi  fede  al  mondo 

Come  questo  mio  fiero,  empio  nemico,  570 

Che  mio  fratello  indegnamente  chiamo, 

Con  minacce  di  morte  oggi  mi  scaccia 

Delia  mia  patria  ;  non  come  d'  Edipo 

Figliuol,  ma  come  servo  abbietto  e  vile. 

E  perche  sete  ognor  pietosi  e  giusti ;  575 

Fate  che,  come  or  mi  diparto  mesto, 

Cosi  ritorni  con  le  spoglie  allegro 

Di  questo  empio  Tiranno  ;  e  spento  lui 

Goda  i  paterni  ben,  tranquillo  e  lieto. 

Gio.   O  misera  Giocasta,  ove  si  trova  580 

Miseria  ch'  alia  tua  sen  vada  eguale  ? 
Deh,  foss'  io  priva  di  questi  occhi,  e  priva 
Di  queste  orecchie,  oime,  per  non  vedere, 
Et  udir  quel  ch'  udir  e  veder  temo. 
Ma  che  mi  resta  piii,  se  non  pregare  585 

II  dolor  che  mi  sia  tanto  cortese, 
Che  mi  tolga  di  vita,  avanti  ch'  io 
Intenda  nuova,  ch'  a  pensar  mi  strugge. 
Donne,  restate  fuor,  pregate  i  Dei 
Per  la  salute  vostra ;   ch'  io  fra  tanto  590 

Mi  chiudo  in  parte  ove  non  vegga  luce. 


Scene  I.]  iflOCa^tH  247 

Beare  witnesse  with  me  here  before  the  worlde, 
How  this  my  fierce  and  cruell  enimie,  605 

Whom  causelesse  now  my  brother  I  do  call, 
With  threates  of  death  my  lingring  steps  doth 

drive 
Both  from  my  right  and  from  mv  countrey  soyle, 
Not  as  beseemes  the  sonne  of  Oedipus, 
But  as  a  slave,  an  abject,  or  a  wretche  :  6io 

And  since  you  be  both  pitifull  and  juste. 
Vouchsafe,  O  gods,  that  as  I  part  with  griefe. 
So  may  I  yet  returne  with  joyful!  spoyle 
Of  this  accursed  tyraunt,  and  (he  slayne) 
I  may  recover  quietly  mine  owne.  615 

Polinice  goeth  out  by  the  gates  Homoloides. 
Joe.    O    wretched   wretch   Jocasta,   wher   is 

founde 
The  miserie  that  may  compare  to  thine  ? 
O,  would  I  had  nor  gasing  eyes  to  see. 
Nor  listning  eares  to  heare  that  now  I  dread  ! 
But  what  remaines,  save  onely  to  entreate  620 

That  cruell  dole  wold  yet  so  curteous  be 
To  reave  the  breath  out  of  this  wofull  brest. 
Before  I  barken  to  some  wofull  newes. 
Rest  you  here,  dames,  and  pray  unto  the  gods 
For  our  redresse,  and  I  in  that  meane  while        625 
Will  shut  my  selfe  from  sight  of  lothsome  light. 
Jocasta  goeth  into  hir  pallace. 
623  wofull.    MS.,  wery. 


248  ^ioca0ta  [act  ii. 

Coro.  Santo  Rettor  di  Tebe,  omai  ti  muovi 
A  pieta  di  Giocasta,  e  di  noi  stesse  : 
Vedi,  Bacco,  il  bisogno,  ascolta  i  nostri 
Onesti  preghi  :   non  lasciar,  o  Padre,  595 

Ch'  abbandonato  sia  ch'  in  te  si  fida. 
Noi  dar  non  ti  possiamo  argento  et  oro, 
Ne  vittime  dovute  a  questi  altari, 
Ma  in  vece  lor  ti  consacriamo  i  cuori. 

[SCENA    2] 

Eteocky  Creonte. 

Eteocle.  Poiche  '1  nimico  mio  m  'ho  tolto  in- 
nanzi, 
Util  sara  ch'  io  mandi  per  Creonte, 
Di  mia  madre  fratello,  acciocch'  io  possa 
Regionar  seco,  e  conferir  insieme 
Di  quanto  accade  alia  difesa  nostra,  5 

Pria  che  s'  esca  di  fuori  alia  battaglia : 
Ma  di  questo  pensier  esso  mi  toglie, 
Ch'  a  gran  fretta  ne  vien  verso  il  palazzo. 


Scene  II]  3|0Cafi?ta  249 

Cho.  O  mightie  god,  the  governour  of  Thebes, 
Pitie  with  speede  the  payne  Jocasta  bydes, 
And  eke  our  needes,  O  mightie  Bacchus,  helpe  ! 
Bende  willing  eare  unto  our  just  complaint !        630 
Leave  them  not  comfortlesse  that  trust  in  thee  ! 
We  have  no  golde  nor  silver  thee  to  give, 
Ne  sacrifice  to  those  thine  aultars  due. 
In  steede  wherof  we  consecrate  our  harts 
To  serve  thy  will,  and  hestes  for  to  obey. 

Whiles  the  Chorus  is  thus  praying  to  Bacchus ^ 

Eteocles    returneth    by   the   gates  called 

Electra. 


ScENA  2.     Actus  2. 

Eteocles y  Creon. 

Eteocles.   Since  I  have  ridde  mine  enmie  out 
of  sight. 
The  best  shall  be  for  Creon  now  to  sende, 
My  mothers  brother,  that  with  him  I  may 
Reason,  consulte,  conferre  and  counsell  bothe, 
What  shall  be  best  to  use  in  our  defence. 
Before  we  venter  forth  into  the  fielde. 
But  of  this  travayle,  loe,  he  me  acquites, 
That  comes  in  haste  towards  these  royall  towres. 
Here   Creon  ^  attended  by  four e  gentlemen y 
commeth  in  by  the  gates  Homoloydes. 

632  no.    Qi,  nor. 

633  those.    MS.,  these. 


250  ^iocas^ta  lact  h. 

Creonte.  Re,  non  senza  cagion  vengo  a  tro- 
varti, 
E  son  per  lungo  spazio  ito  cercando  lo 

La  tua  persona,  per  usar  anch'  io 
Queir  officio  ch'  io  debbo  in  consigliarti. 

Eteo,  Certo  gran  desiderio  aveva  anch'  io 
D'  esser  teco,  Creonte;  poich'  indarno 
E  gita  la  fatica  di  mia  madre  15 

Di  riconciliarmi  a  Polinice; 
Che  fu  talmente  d'  intelletto  privo, 
Che  si  penso  che  per  vilta  devessi 
Condurmi  a  tal,  ch'  io  gli  cedessi  il  Regno. 

Cre.   Ho  inteso  che  1'  esercito  che  seco  20 

Ha  condotto  il  rubel  contra  di  noi 
£  tal,  ch'  io  mi  diffido  che  le  forze 
Delia  Citta  sien  atte  a  sostenerlo. 
E  ver  ch'  e  la  ragion  dal  canto  nostro, 
Che  spesse  volte  la  vittoria  apporta;  25 

Che  noi,  per  conservar  la  patria  nostra, 
L'  arme  prendemmo,  et  ei  per  soggiogarla: 
Ma  quel  per  cui  son  mosso  a  parlar  teco 
E  di  maggior  momento,  e  assai  piu  importa. 

Eteo.   Questo  ch'  e?   lo  mi  racconta  tosto.        30 

Cre.   M'  e  venuto  alle  man  certo  prigione  .  .  . 

Eteo.   E  che  die'  egli  che  cotanto  importi? 

n  per  usar  ancK'  io.   Changed  in  ''  Printers'  Errors"  of  O  to 
ancho'io  vuol  dire  in  parte. 


Scene  II.]  J[Otdi^tdL  2$! 

Creon.   O  mightie  king,  not  causelesse  nowe 
I  come 
To  finde,  that  long  have  sought,  your  maiestie :   lo 
So  to  discharge  the  duetie  that  I  owe 
To  you  by  comforte  and  by  counsell  bothe. 

Eteo.  No  lesse  desire  this  harte  of  mine  did 
presse. 
To  send  for  thee,  Creon,  since  that  in  vaine 
My  mother  hath  hir  words  and  travayle  spent      15 
To  reconcile  Polynices  and  me ; 
For  he  (so  dull  was  his  capacitie) 
Did  thinke  he  could  by  dread  of  daunger  winne 
My  princely  heart  to  yeeld  to  him  his  realme. 

Cre.   I  understande,  the  armie  that  he  brings    20 
Agaynst  these  walles  is  such,  that  I  me  doubte 
Our  cities  force  may  scarce  the  same  resist. 
Yet  true  it  is,  that  right  and  reason  both 
Are  on  our  side,  which  bring  the  victorie 
Oftetimes  ;   for  we  our  countrey  to  defend,  25 

They  to  subdue  the  same  in  armes  are  come. 
But  what  I  would  unto  your  highnesse  shewe 
Is  of  more  weight,  and  more  behoves  to  know. 

Eteo.   And  what  is  that  ?  oh,  quickly  tell  it  me. 

Cre.  A  Greeke  prisner  is  come  unto  my  hands.   30 

Eteo.  And  what  sayth  he  that  doth  so  much 
importe  ? 

19   hit.      MS.,  Ql,  this. 


252  MOCn&tn  [Act  II. 

Cre.  Che  gia  sono  i  soldati  a  schiera  a  schiera 
Divisi,  e  voglion  dar  1'  assalto  a  Tebe. 

Eteo.   Dunque  bisogna  far  che  la  Cittade  35 

Sia  tutta  in  arme,  per  uscir  di  fuora. 

Cre.  Re,  1'  eta  giovenil,  che  poco  vede, 
(E  mi  perdona)  a  te  non  lascia  bene 
Discerner  quel  che  si  conviene  a  questo: 
Perocche  la  prudenza,  ch'  e  reina  40 

Deir  opre  umane,  solamente  nasce 
Da  lunga  esperienzaj  che  non  puote, 
Ne  puo  trovarsi  in  poco  spazio  d'  anni. 

Eteo.  Come  non  e  pensier  saggio,  e  prudente 
A  porci  a  fronte  co  i  nemici  avanti  45 

Che  prendono  piii  spazio  di  campagna, 
E  a  tutta  la  Citta  diano  1'  assalto  ? 

Cre.   Pochi  in  numero  siamo,  ed  ei  son  molti. 

Eteo.   I  nostri  son  miglior  di  forze,  a  d'  armi. 

Cre.   Questo  io  non  so,  ne  m'  assicuro  a  dirlo.   50 

Eteo.  Vedrai  quant'  io  ne  mandero  sotterra. 

Cre.   Caro  io  1'  avrei,  ma  gran  fatica  fia. 

Eteo.  Io  non  terro  le  genti  entro  le  mura. 

42-43   cAe  non  puote,  ne  pub.     In  "Printers'   Errors"   of  O, 
che  non  suole. 

46  prendono.     O,  prendano. 


Scene  H]  31OCa0ta  253 

C?e.   That  even  alredy  [be]  their  ranks  in  raye, 
And  streight  will  give  assault  to  these  our  walles. 
Eteo.   Then  must  I  streight  prepare  our  citi- 
zens 
In  glittring  arms  to  march  into  the  fielde.  35 

Cre.   O  prince  (and   pardon   me),  thy  youth- 
full  yers 
Nor  see  them  selfe,  ne  let  thee  once  discerne 
What  best  behoveth  in  this  doubtfull  case. 
"  For  prudence,  she  that  is  the  mightie  queene 
Of  all  good  vvorkes,  growes  by  experience,  4° 

Which  is  not  founde  with  fewe  dayes   seeking 
for. 
Eteo.  And  were  not  this  both  sounde  and  wise 
advise. 
Boldly  to  looke  our  foemen  in  the  face. 
Before  they  spred  our  fields  with  hugie  hoste. 
And  all  the  towne  beset  by  siege  at  once  ?  45 

Cre.   We  be  but  few,  and  they  in  number  great. 
Eteo.   Our  men  have  yet  more  courage  farre 

than  they. 
Cre.  That  know  I  not,  nor  am  I  sure  to  say. 
Eteo.  Those  eyes  of  thine  in  little  space  shall 
see 
How  many  I  my  selfe  can  bring  to  grounde.         50 
Cre.  That  would  I  like,  but  harde  it  is  to  doe. 
Eteo.   I  nill  penne  up   our   men    within   the 
walles. 

32   be.     So  in  MS.,  Qi,  Q3.     Q2,  by. 


254  ^ioca^ta  [acth. 

Cre.  II  vincer  posto  e  nei  consigli  buoni. 
Eteo.   Dunque  tu  vuoi  ch'  io  ordisca  altri  di- 

segni?  .55 

Cre.  Si,  pria  che  ponghi  ogni  tua  cosa  a  risco. 
Eteo.   Faro  la  notte  un  improvviso  assalto. 
Cre.   Esser  potria  che  ritornasti  addietro. 
Eteo.  II  vantaggio  mai  sempre  e  di  chi  assalta. 
Cre.   II  combatter  di  notte  e  gran  periglio.        60 
Eteo.   Gli  assaltero  di  mezzo  alle  vivande. 
Cre.  Spaventa  certo  un  improvviso  assalto, 
M'  a  noi  vincer  bisogna. 

Eteo.  Vinceremo. 

Cre.  Non  gia,  se  non  troviamo  altro  consiglio. 
Eteo.   Combatteremo  gli  steccati  loro.  65 

Cre.   Quasi  ch'  alcun  non  abbia  a  far  difesa. 
Eteo.   Lasciero  dunque  la  Citta  ai  nemici? 
Cre.  Non  gia:   ma,  essendo  savio,  or  ti  con- 

siglia. 
Eteo.   Questo  e  tuo  officio,  che  piu  intendi  e 

sai. 
Cre,  Diro  quel  ch'  a  me  par  che  piii  ci  giovi.   70 

58  ritornasti.      O,   ri  tornasse. 


Scene  IL]  3|0CaSfta  255 

Cre.  In  counsell  yet  the  victorie  consistes. 
Eteo.  And  wilt  thou  then  I  use  some  other 

reade  ? 
Cre.   What   else  ?   be  still   a   while,  for   hast 

makes  wast.  55 

Eteo.   By  night  I  will  the  cammassado  give. 
Cre.   So  may  you  do,  and  take  the  overthrowe. 
Eteo.   The  vauntage  is  to  him  that  doth  assaulte. 
Cre.  Yet  skirmishe  given  by  night  is  perillous. 
Eteo.   Let  set  upon  them  as  they  sit  at  meat?   60 
Cre.   Sodayne    assaults   affray  the   minde,  no 

doubt ; 
But  we  had  neede  to  overcome. 

Eteo.  So  shall  we  do. 

Cre.  No,  sure,  unlesse  some  other  counsell 

helpe. 
Eteo.  Amid  their  trenches  shall  we  them  in- 
vade ? 
Cre.  As  who  should  say,  were  none  to  make 

defence.  65 

Eteo.   Should   I,  then,  yeeld  the   citie  to   my 

foes  ? 
Cre.   No  ;   but  advise  you  well  if  you  be  wise. 
Eteo.   That  were  thy  parte,  that  knowest  more 

than  I. 
Cre.   Then  shall  I  say  that   best   doth   seeme 

to  me  ? 

60  Let.     Q3,  Lets.  62  to  overcome.      MS.  omits  to. 


256  (5iOtn$tU  [Act  II. 

Eteo.  Ogni  consiglio  tuo  terro  migliore. 
Cre.  Essi  hanno  eletto  sette  uomini  illustri. 
Eteo.   Questo  numero  e  poco  a  tanta  impresa. 
Cre.   Gli  hanno  eletti  per  Duci,  e  Capitani 
Eteo.   Deir  esercito  lor?   questo  non  basta.       75 
Cre.  Anco  per  espugnar  le  sette  porte. 
Eteo.   Che  dunque  far  convienci  a  tal  bisogno  ? 
Cre.  Altrettanti  anche  tu  gli  opponi  a  fronte. 
Eteo.   Dando  in  governo  lor  le  genti  nostre  ? 
Cre.  E  scegliendo  i  miglior  che  sono  in  Tebe.  80 
Eteo.  Perch'  io  difender  possa  la  cittade  ? 
Cre.   Con  gli  altri,  perche  un  sol  non  vede  il 

tutto. 
Eteo.  Vuoi  ch'  io  scelga  i   piii   forti,  o  i  piu 

prudenti  ? 
Cre.  Ambi,  che,  tolto  V  un,  1'  altro  perisce. 
Eteo.  Dunque  forza  non  val  senza  prudenza?  85 


Scene  n.]  3(|OCa0Ca  257 

Eteo.  Yea,  Creon,  yea ;  thy  counsell  holde  I 

deare.  7° 

Ore.  Seven  men  of  courage  have  they  chosen 

out. 
Eteo.  A  slender  number  for  so  great  emprise. 
Cre.  But   they  them   chose    for    guides    and 

capitaynes. 
Eteo.  To  such  an  hoste  ?   why,  they  may  not 

suffise. 
Cre.  Nay,  to  assault  the  seven  gates  of  the 

citie.  75 

Eteo.   What    then    behoveth,    so    bestad,    to 

done  ? 
Cre.  With  equall  number  see  you  do  them 

match. 
Eteo.  And  then   commit  our   men   in   charge 

to  them  ? 
Cre.   Chusing  the  best  and  boldest   blouds   in 

Thebes. 
Eteo.   And  how  shall  I  the  citie  then  defende  ?   80 
Cre.   Well,  with  the  rest ;   for  one  man   sees 

not  all. 
Eteo.  And  shall  I   chuse  the  boldest  or  the 

wisest  ? 
Cre.   Nay,  both  ;   for  one  without  that  other 

fayles. 
Eteo.  "  Force  without  wisedome,  then,  is  little 

worth." 


258  ^iocasfta  [act  ii. 

Cre.  Convien    che    questa    sia    congiunta   a 
quella. 

Eteo.  Creonte,  io  vo'  seguir  il  tuo  consiglio; 
Ch'  io  lo  tengo  fedel,  quanto  prudente, 
E  mi  dipartiro  con  tua  licenza, 
Acciocch'  io  possa  provveder  a  tempo,  9° 

Ne  fuor  di  man  1'  occasion  mi  fugga 
E  di  prender,  e  uccider  Polinice; 
Che  ben  debbo  cercar  d'  uccider  quello 
Ch'  e  venuto  a  guastar  la  patria  mia. 
Ma,  se  piacesse  alia  fortuna,  e  al  fato  95 

Ch'  altrimenti  avvenisse  ch'  io  disegno, 
A  te  di  procurar  resta  le  nozze 
Di  mia  sorella  Antigone  col  tuo 
Caro  figliuol  Emone ;  a  cui  per  dote 
In  questa  mia  partita  afFermo  quanto  100 

Ti  promisi  poc'  anzi.    Tu  fratello 
Sei  della  madre  mia :   non  mi  bisogna 
Che  '1  governo  di  lei  ti  raccomandi. 
Del  padre  non  mi  cale :   e,  s'  egli  avviene 
Ch'  io  muoia,  potrai  dir  che  le  sue  fiere  105 

Maladizion  m'  abbiano  ucciso  e  morto. 

Cre.   Questo  lo  tolga  Dio ;   che  non  e  degno. 

Eteo.   Del  Dominio  di  Tebe  altro  non  debbo, 
Ne  conviensi  ordinar;  perocche  questo. 


Scene  II]  31OCa0ta  259 

Cre.  That   one   must  be   fast  to  that   other 
joynde.  85 

Eteo.   Creon,  I  will  thy  counsell  follow  still, 
For  why  I  holde  it  wise  and  trusty  both, 
And  out  of  hand  for  now  I  will  departe, 
That  I  in  time  the  better  may  provide, 
Before  occasion  slip  out  of  my  hands,  90 

And  that  I  may  this  Polynices  (*)  quell :  KyU. 

For  well  may  I  with  bloudy  knife  him  slea 
That  comes  in  armes  my  countrie  for  to  spoyle. 
But  if  so  please  to  fortune  and  to  fate 
That  other  ende  than  I  do  thinke  may  fall,  95 

To  thee,  my  frend,  it  resteth  to  procure 
The  mariage  twixt  my  sister  Antygone 
And  thy  deare   sonne   Haemone,  to  whom   for 

dowre, 
At  parting  thus,  I  promise  to  performe 
As  much  as  late  I  did  (*)  beheste  to  thee  :    Promisse. 
My  mothers  bloude  and  brother  deare  thou  arte, 
Ne  neede  I  crave  of  thee  to  gard  hir  well ; 
As  for  my  father  care  I  not,  for  if 
So  chaunce  I  dye,  it  may  full  well  be  sayd 
His  bitter  curses  brought  me  to  my  bane.  105 

Cre.   The    Lord   defend,   for   that    unworthy 
were. 

Eteo.   Of  Thebes  towne  the  rule  and  scepter, 
loe, 
I  neede  nor  ought  it  otherwise  dispose 


26o  ^iocasfta  [act  ii. 

Morend'  io  senza  figli,  a  te  ricade.  no 

Ben  caro  mi  saria  d'  intender  quale 

Succeder  debba  il  fin  di  questa  guerra. 

Pero  vo*  che  tu  mandl  il  tuo  figliuolo 

Per  Tiresia  indovin,  ch'  a  te  ne  venga; 

Che  ben  so  che  venir  per  nome  mio  115 

Non  vorrebb'  egli,  perche  alcune  volte 

Vituperai  quell'  arte,  e  lo  ripresi, 

Cre.   Cio  faro  come  brami,  e  come  io  debbo. 

Eteo.  A  te  nel  fine,  e  alia  Citta  comando 
Che,  se  fortuna,  a'  desir  nostri  arnica,  120 

Vincitrici  fara  le  genti  nostre ; 
Alcun  non  sia  che  seppellir  ardisca 
Di  Polinice  il  corpo :   e  chi  di  questa 
Mia  legge  temerario  uscira  fuori, 
Sia  levato  di  vita  immantenente ;  125 

Quantunque  fosse  a  lui  giunto  per  sangue. 
Ora  io  mi  parto,  e  ne  verra  con  meco 
La  giustizia,  ch'  innanzi  a'  passi  miei 
Vittoriosa  andra  per  scorta  e  duce. 
Voi  supplicate  Giove  che  difenda  130 

La  Citta  nostra,  e  la  conservi  ogn'  ora. 

Cre.  Ti  ringrazio,  Eteocle,  dell'  amore 
Che  mi  dimostri :   e,  se  avvenisse  quello 
Ch'  io  non  vorrei ;  ben  ti  prometto  ch'  io 
In  tal  caso  farei  quanto  conviensi :  135 


Scene  II.]  31OCa0ta  26 1 

Than  unto  thee,  if  I  dye  without  heyre. 

Yet  longs  my  lingring  mynde  to  understand         "© 

The  doubtfull  ende  of  this  unhappie  warre  : 

Wherfore  I  will  thou  send  thy  sonne  to  seke 

Tyresias  the  devine,  and  learne  of  him ; 

For  at  my  call  I  knowe  he  will  not  come, 

That  often  have  his  artes  and  him  reprovde.        "5 

Cre.  As  you  commaund,  so   ought  I  to  per- 
forme. 

Eteo.  And  last,  I  thee  and   citie   both  com- 
maund. 
If  fortune  frendly  favour  our  attemptes, 
And  make  our  men  triumphant  victors  all, 
That  none  there  be  so  hardie  ne  so  bolde  ^*o 

For  Polynices  bones  to  give  a  grave ; 
And  who  presumes  to  breake  my  heste  herein, 
Shall  dye  the  death  in  penaunce  of  his  paine ; 
For  though  I  were  by  bloud  to  him  conjoynde, 
I  part  it  now,  and  justice  goeth  with  me  i*5 

To  guide  my  steppes  victoriously  before. 
Pray  you  to  Jove  he  deigne  for  to  defende 
Our  citie  safe,  both  now  and  evermore. 

Cre.   Gramercie,  worthie  prince,  for  all  thy 
love 
And  faithfull  trust  thou  doest  in  me  repose,         n^ 
And  if  should  hap  that  I  hope  never  shall, 
I  promise  yet  to  doe  what  best  behoves. 
But  chieflie  this  I  sweare  and  make  a  vowe, 


262  ^ioca^ta  [act  ii. 

E  sopra  tutto  ti  prometto  e  giuro 
Di  Polinice,  a  noi  crudel  nemico. 


CORO. 

Fero,  e  dannoso  DIo, 

Che  sol  di  sangue  godi, 

E  volgi  spesso  sottosopra  il  mondo ; 

Perche,  crudele  e  rio, 

Turbi  la  pace,  et  odi 

Lo  stato  altrui  tranquil,  lieto,  e  giocondo  ? 

Perche,  empio  e  furibondo, 

Col  ferro  urti  e  percuoti 

La  Cittade  innocente 

Di  quel  giusto  e  possente 

Dio  che  n'  ingombra  il  cor  de'  suoi  divoti 

Di  contento  e  di  gioia, 

E  scaccia  di  quaggiu  tormento  e  noia  ? 

Padre  di  guerre  e  morti ; 
Che  spesso  i  cari  pegni 
Togli  air  afflitte  madri,  orrido  e  strano ; 
Spenga  Venere  i  torti 
Tuoi,  gravi,  aspri  disdegni, 
E  ti  faccia  cader  1'  armi  di  mano. 


Scene  II.]  31;OCa0ta  263 

For  Polynices  nowe  our  cruell  foe 

To  holde  the    best   that  thou   doest    me   com- 

maunde.  135 

Creon  attendeth  Eteocles  to  the  gates  Elec- 
tra  ;  he  returneth,  and  goeth  out  by  the 
gates  called  Homoloydes. 

Chorus. 

O  fierce  and  furious  Mars,  whose   harmefull 
harte 
Rejoyceth  most  to  shed  the  giltlesse  blood, 
Whose  headie  wil  doth  all  the  world  subvert, 
And  doth  envie  the  pleasant  mery  moode 
Of  our  estate,  that  erst  in  quiet  stoode,  5 

Why    doest    thou    thus   our  harmelesse    towne 

annoye. 
Which  mightie  Bacchus  governed  in  joye  ? 

Father  of  warre  and  death,  that  dost  remove 
With    wrathfull    wrecke    from   wofull   mothers 

breast 
The  trustie  pledges  of  their  tender  love,  10 

So  graunt  the  gods,  that  for  our  finall  rest 
Dame  Venus  pleasant  lookes    may   please  thee 

best  ; 
Wherby,  when  thou  shalt  all  amazed  stand. 
The  sword  may  fall  out  of  thy  trembling  hand. 

I  Mars.  MS.,  Qi,  God. 


264  €^ioca0ta  [act  h. 

Non  siano  sparsi  in  vano  20 

I  nostri  preghi  onesti : 
Rivolgi,  Marte,  altrove 
Le  sanguinose  prove 

Deir  asta  tua,  con  cui  risvegli  e  desti 

L'  empie  furie  d'  Averno,  25 

Per  far  dell'  alme  altrui  ricco  T  inferno. 

Teco  ne  venga  ancora, 
Lasciando  i  nostri  campi, 
Cinta  di  Serpi  la  discordia  fiera, 
Che  fa  che  ad  ora  ad  ora  30 

Deir  uman  sangue  stampi 
La  terra,  e  '1  buono  indegnamente  pera. 
La  pace  alma  e  sincera 
Ritorni  onde  e  partita ; 

E  fugga  omai  del  core  35 

L'  odio  grave,  e  '1  furore, 
Che  velenoso,  a  crude!  guerra  invita, 
(E  ragion  turba  e  guasta) 

II  figliuolo  d'  Edipo,  e  di  Giocasta. 

29  Jiera.    O,  altera. 


Chorus.]  3l|OCa0ta  265 

And  thou  maist   prove  some  other   way    full 

well  '5 

The  bloudie  prowesse  of  thy  mightie  speare, 
Wherwith  thou  raisest  from  the  depth  of  hell 
The  wrathfull  sprites  of  all  the  furies  there 
Who,  when  [they  wake],  doe   wander  every- 
where. 
And  never  rest  to  range  about  the  coastes,  10 

Tenriche  that  pit  with  spoile  of  damned  ghostes. 

And  when  thou  hast  our  fieldes  forsaken  thus, 
Let  cruell  discorde  beare  thee  companie, 
Engirt  with  snakes  and  serpents  venemous, 
Even  she  that  can  with  red  virmilion  dye  25 

The  gladsome  greene  that  florisht  pleasantly. 
And  make  the  greedie  ground  a  drinking  cup 
To  sup  the  bloud  of  murdered  bodyes  up. 

Yet  thou  returne,  O  joye  and  pleasant  peace. 
From  whence  thou  didst  against  our  wil  depart,  30 
Ne  let  thy  worthie  minde  from  travell  cease. 
To  chase  disdaine  out  of  the  poysned  harte, 
That  raised  warre  to  all  our  paynes  and  smarte, 
Even  from  the  brest  of  Oedipus  his  sonne. 
Whose   swelling   pride   hath   all   this  jarre   be- 

gonne.  35 

19  they  wake.    So  in  MS.,  Qi  and  Q3.    Q2,  the  wcake. 


2  66  ^ioca^ta  [acth. 

Tu,  che  r  Ciel  tempri  e  reggi,  40 

E  quanto  qui  si  mira 
Con  decreto  fatal  leghi  e  disponi ; 
Onde  corone  e  seggi, 
Or  pietoso,  or  con  ira, 

Siccome  piace  a  te,  spezzi,  e  componi ;  45 

Cagion  delle  cagioni, 
Onde  ogni  cosa  pende, 
Non  guardar  al  peccato 
Del  tuo  popolo  ingrato ; 

Che  quanto  e  il  tuo  poter  non  ben  comprende:    50 
Ma  riguarda  alF  amore 
Che  gia  ti  mosse  esser  di  noi  fattore. 

E  che  possiam  noi  miseri  mortali 
Nei  casi  iniqui  e  rei 
Altro  che  dimandar  soccorso  ai  Dei  ?  55 


Chorus.]  3l0CaSfta  267 

And   thou,  great   god,  that   doest   all   things 
decree. 
And  sitst  on  highe  above  the  starrie  skies, 
Thou  chiefest  cause  of  causes  all  that  bee. 
Regard  not  his  offence,  but  heare  our  cries, 
And  spedily  redresse  our  miseries,  40 

For  what  [can]  we  poore  wofull  wretches  doe 
But  crave  thy  aide,  and  onely  cleave  therto? 

41  can.  So  in  MS.  and  Qi.    Q2,  Q3,  cause. 


Finis  Actus  secundi. 
Done  by  G.  Gascoygne, 


The  order  of  the  thirde 
dumbe  shewe 

Before  the  beginning  of  this  iii  Act  did  sound 
a  very  dolefull  noise  of  cornettes,  during  the 
which  there  opened  and  appeared  in  the  stage 
a  great  gulfe.  Immediatly  came  in  vi  gentlemen 
in  their  dublets  and  hose,  bringing  upon  their 
shulders  baskets  full  of  earth,  and  threwe  them 
into  the  gulfe  to  fill  it  up,  but  it  would  not  so 
close  up  nor  be  filled.  Then  came  the  ladyes 
and  dames  that  stoode  by,  throwing  in  their 
cheynes  and  jewels,  so  to  cause  it  stoppe  up  and 
close  it  selfe :  but  when  it  would  not  so  be 
filled,  came  in  a  knighte  with  his  sword  drawen, 
armed  at  all  poyntes,  who  walking  twise  or 
thrise  about  it,  and  perusing  it,  seing  that  it 
would  nether  be  filled  with  earth  nor  with  their 
Jewells  and  ornaments,  after  solempne  reverence 
done  to  the  gods,  and  curteous  leave  taken  of 
the  ladyes  and  standers  by,  sodeinly  lepte  into 
the  gulfe,  the  which  did  close  up  immediatly  : 
betokning  unto  us  the  love  that  every  w^orthy 
person  oweth  unto  his  native  countrie,  by  the 
historye  of  Curtius,  who  for  the  lyke  cause  ad- 


tB^t  orurt  of  ttie  ttjiru  Uumbe  s^Jetoe    269 

ventured  the  like  in  Rome.    This  done,  blinde 
Tyresias,   the    divine    prophete,   led  in    by   hys 
daughter,  and  conducted  by  Meneceus,  the  son  25 
of  Creon,  entreth  by   the   gates    Electrae,  and 
sayth  as  follovi^eth. 


Atto   Terzo 

[SCENA   I.] 

Tiresidy  Creonte,  Manto,  Meneceo. 

Tiresia^  O  d'  ogni  mio  cammin  fidata  scorta, 
Andiamo,  figlia,  e  tu  mi  guida  e  reggi ; 
Che  dal  di  ch'  io  restai  privo  di  luce 
Tu  sola  il  lume  di  quest'  occhi  sei : 
E  perche,  come  sai,  per  esser  vecchio,  5 

Debile  io  sono,  e  di  riposo  amico  ; 
Indrizza  i  passi  per  [la]  piu  plana  via, 
Tal  che  men  dell'  andar  senta  1'  affanno. 
Tu,  gentil  Meneceo,  dimmi  se  manca 
Lungo  viaggio  a  pervenir  la  dove  10 

II  padre  tuo  la  mia  venuta  aspetta  ; 
Che  qual  tarda  testudine,  traendo 
Con  fatica,  o  figliuol,  1'  antico  fianco,  ] 

Benche  pronto  e  '1  desio,  mi  movo  appena. 

Creonte.   Confortati,      Indovin,      ch'  il      tuo 
Creonte  15 

E  qui  dinanzi,  e  t'  e  venuto  incontra, 

7  la.    O,  D,  omit. 


Actus  iii.    Scena   i. 
Tyresiasy  Creoriy  Manto,  Meneceusy  Sacerdos. 

[Tyresias.'^    Thou  trustie  guide  of  my  so  trust- 

lesse  steppes, 
Deer  daughter  mine,  go  we,  lead  thou  the  way, 
For  since  the  day  I  first  did  leese  this  light, 
Thou  only  art  the  light  of  these  mine  eyes  : 
And  for  thou  knowst  I  am  both  old  and  weake,     5 
And  ever  longing  after  lovely  rest. 
Direct  my  steppes  amyd  the  plavnest  pathes, 
That  so  my  febled  feete  may  feele  lesse  paine. 
Meneceus,  thou  gentle  childe,  tell  me. 
Is  it  farre  hence,  the  place  where  we  must  goe,  10 
Where  as  thy  father  for  my  comming  staves  ? 
For  like  unto  the  slouthfull  snayle  I  drawe 
(Deare  sonne)  with  paine  these   aged  legges  of 

mine, 

Creon  returneth  by  the  gates  Homoloydes. 
And  though  my  minde  be  quicke,  scarce  can  I 

move. 
Creon.   Comfort  thy  selfe,  devine,  Creon  thy 

frend,  15 

Loe,  standeth  here,  and  came  to  meete  with  thee 

Creon.  .  .  .    Homoloydes.    MS.  puts  stage-direction  after  line  14 
instead  of  before  it. 


272  €>iocasfta  [actiii. 

Per  levarti  la  noia  del  cammino ; 

Ch'  alia  vecchiezza  ogni  fatica  e  grave. 

Tu,  di  lui  figlia,  che  pietosa  il  guidi, 

Or  qui  lo  ferma  :   e  volentieri  in  tanto  20 

Quella  vergine  man  che  lo  sostiene 

II  suo  debito  e  onesto  officio  porga ; 

Perocche  questa  eta  canuta  e  bianca 

Delle  mani  d'  altrui  ricerca  appoggio. 

Tire,  Ti  ringrazio,  son  qui,  di'  quel  che  vuoi.  %$ 
Cre.  Quel  ch'  io  voglio  da  te,  Tiresia,  e  cosa 

Da  non  uscir  di  mente  cosi  tosto  : 

Ma  riposati  alquanto,  e  pria  ristora 

In  camminar  gli  afFaticati  spirti. 

Ma  che  vuol  dir  quella  corona  d'  ore  3° 

Ch'  ora,  a  guisa  di  Re,  t'  orna  la  testa  ? 

Tire.  Sappi  che  V  aver  io  col  mio  consiglio 

Dianzi  insegnato  ai  Cittadin  d'  Atene 

Come  ottener  poteano  facilmente 

Certa  vittoria  de'  nemici  loro  35 

Cagion  dell'  ornamento  e  che  tu  vedi; 


Scene  I]  3l0CaSfta  273 

To  ease  the  paine  that  thou  mightst  else  sus- 
taine, 

"  For  unto  elde  eche  travell  yeldes  an- 
noy." ^^^  """^^ 

J  '  ^  be  helped 

And  thou,  his  daughter  and  his  faithful      by  youth. 

guide, 
Loe,  rest  him  here,  and  rest  thou  therewithall      20 
Thy  virgins  hands,  that  in  sustayning  him 
Doest  well  acquite  the  duetie  of  a  childe. 
"  For  crooked  age  and  hory  silver  heares 
Still  craveth  helpe  of  lustie  youthfull  yeares." 
Tyr.   Gramercie,  Lorde,  what  is  your  noble 

will  ?  ^5 

Cre,  What  I  would  have  of  thee,  Tyresias, 
Is  not  a  thing  so  soone  for  to  be  sayde, 
But  rest  a  whyle  thy  weake  and  weary  limmes, 
And  take  some  breath  now  after  wearie  walke, 
And  tell,  I   pray  thee,  what  this  crowne  doth 

meane,  30 

That  sits  so  kingly  on  thy  skilfull  heade  ? 

Tyr.   Know  this,  that  for  I  did  with  grave 
advise 
Foretell  the  citizens  of  Athens  towne. 
How  they  might  best  with  losse  of  litle  bloude 
Have  victories  against  their  enimies,  ^^ 

Hath   bene   the   cause  why    I    doe    weare   this 
crowne, 

18  dde  eche.     Q3,  olde  age.  35   'victories.    MS.,  victory. 


2  74  ^iotasfta  [actih. 

Premio  alia  fede  mia  non  forse  indegno. 

Cre.   Questa  vittoriosa  tua  corona 
De'  casi  nostri  a  buon  augurio  prendo  j 
Che  come  sai,  per  la  discordia  fiera  40 

Di  questi  due  fratelli,  a  gran  periglio 
Or  tutta  la  Citta  di  Tebe  e  posta. 
Eteocle  nostro  Re,  coperto  d'  arme 
E  gito  contra  le  nemiche  schiere ; 
Et  ammi  imposto  che  da  te,  che  sei  45 

Vero  indovin  delle  future  cose, 
Intenda  quel  che  si  de'  far  da  noi 
Tutti,  per  conservar  la  patria  nostra. 

Tire.   Per  cagion  d'  Eteocle  molti  mesi 
Chiudendo  per  timor  la  bocca,  ogn'  ora  50 

Rimasi  in  Tebe  di  predir  il  vero. 
Ma  poiche  tu  mi  chiedi  il  gran  bisogno 
Ch'  io  t'  apra  il  vel  delle  celate  cose 
A  ben  universal  della  Cittade, 
Son  contento  di  far  quanto  ti  piace.  55 

Ma  prima  e  di  mestier  ch'  al  vostro  Dio 
Ora  si  faccia  sacrificio  degno 
Del  pill  bel  capro  che  si  trovi  in  Tebe ; 
Dentro  gli  exti  di  cui  guardando  bene 
II  Sacerdote,  e  riferendo  come 


Scene  I.]  3l0CafifCa  275 

As  right  rewarde  and  not  unmeete  for  me. 

Cre.   So  take  I  then  this  thy  victorious  crowne 
For  our  availe  in  token  of  good  lucke, 
That  knowest  how  the  discord  and  debate,  40 

Which    late    is    fallen    betwene    these    brethren 

twaine, 
Hath    brought   all    Thebes   in   daunger  and    in 

dreade. 
Eteocles,  our  king,  with  threatning  armes 
Is  gone  against  his  Greekish  enimies, 
Commaunding  me  to  learne  of  thee,  who  arte      45 
A  true  divine  of  things  that  be  to  come. 
What  were  for  us  the  safest  to  be  done 
From  perill  now  our  countrev  to  preserve. 

Tyr.   Long  have  I   bene  within  the  towne  of 
Thebes, 
Since  that  I  tyed  this  trustie  toung  of  mine  50 

From  telling  truth,  fearing  Eteocles  : 
Yet,  since  thou  doest  in  so  great  neede  desire 
I  should  reveale  things  hidden  unto  thee 
For  common  cause  of  this  our  common  weale, 
I  stand  content  to  pleasure  thee  herein.  55 

But  first  (that  to  this  mightie  god  of  vours 
There  might  some  worthie  sacrifice  be  made) 
Let  kill  the  fairest  goate  that  is  in  Thebes, 
Within  whose  bowelles  when  the  preest  shall 
loke, 

50  trustie.   Q3  omits. 


276  ^ioca^ta  [act  m. 

Gli  trovera  a  me  stesso ;  io  spero  darti 
Di  quanto  far  conviene  avviso  certo. 

Cre.  II  Tempio  e  qui  j  ne  fia  che  tardi  molto 
Alia  venuta  il  Sacerdote  santo, 
E  seco  rechera  la  monda  e  bella  65 

Vittima  che  ricerchi :   ch'  io  poco  anzi, 
Ben  cauto  del  costume  che  tu  serbi, 
Ho  mandato  per  lui ;  Io  qual,  avendo 
Scelto  il  piij  grasso  d'  infiniti  capri, 
Gia  s'  era  mosso.    Or  eccolo  presente.  70 

Sacerdote.   Pietosi  Cittadin,  ch'  amate  tanto 
La  patria  vostra,  ecco,  ch'  io  vengo  a  voi 
Lieto,  per  far  il  sacrificio  usato ; 
Acciocche  '1  Protettor  della  Cittade 
Or  la  difenda  nel  maggior  bisogno,  75 

E  torni  pace  ov'  e  discordia  e  guerra. 
Pero  con  1'  alma,  e  con  1'  aspetto  umile, 
Mentre  ch'  io  svenero  tacito  a  Bacco 
Questo  animal  che  le  sue  viti  offende, 


Scene!.]  J^OtRHtn  277 

And  tell  to  me  what  he  hath  there  espyed,  60 

I  trust  t'advise  thee  what  is  best  to  doen. 

Cre.   Lo,  here    the    temple,  and    ere    long    I 
looke 
To  see  the  holy  preest  that  hither  commes, 
Bringing  with  him  the  pure  and  faire  offrings 
Which  thou  requirest :   for  not  long  since  I  sent   65 
For  him,  as  one  that  am  not  ignorant 
Of  all  your  rytes  and  sacred  ceremonyes  : 
He  went  to  choose  amid  our  herd  of  goates 
The    fattest    there:    and    loke   where   now   he 
commes  ! 
Sacerdos,  accompanied  with  xvi  Bacchanales 
and  all  his  rytes  and  ceremonies y  entreth 
by  the  gates  Homoloydes. 
Sacerdos.   O   famous  citizens,  that   holde   full 
deare  70 

Your  quiet  countrey,  loe  !   where  I  doe  come 
Most  joyfully  with  wonted  sacrifice, 
So  to  beseeche  the  supreme  citizens 
To  stay  our  state  that  staggringly  doth  stand. 
And  plant  us  peace,  where  warre  and  discord 

growes :  75 

Wherfore  with  hart  devout  and  humble  cheere, 
Whiles  I  breake  up  the  bowels  of  this  beast 
(That   oft    thy   veneyarde,    Bacchus,  hath    de- 
stroyed), 

76  hart.     MS.,  harty. 


278  ^iocasita  [act  m. 

Ogn'  un  si  volga  a  dimandar  perdono  80 

Delle  sue  colpe  intorno  a  questo  altare 
Con  le  ginocchia  riverenti  e  chine. 

Tire.   Reca  la  salsa  mola,  e  spargi  d'  essa 
II  collo  della  bestia,  il  resto  poni 
Nel  sacro  foco ;  et  ungi  poi  d'  intorno  85 

II  coltel  destinato  al  sacrificio. 
Giove,  conserva  il  prezioso  dono 
Che  mi  facesti  allor  che  la  tua  moglie, 
Per  isdegno,  mi  tolse  ambe  le  luci ; 
E  dammi  che  predir  io  possa  il  vero ;  9© 

Che  senza  te  ben  so  ch'  io  non  potrei 
Ne  voler,  ne  poter,  ne  aprir  la  bocca. 

Sac.  Questo  officio  ho  fornito. 

Tire.  II  capro  svena. 

Sac.  Tu,  figlia  di  Tiresia,  entro  quel  vaso 
Con  le  vergini  man  ricevi  il  sangue  :  95 

Quinci  divota  1'  offerisci  a  Bacco. 

Manto.  Santo  di  Tebe  Dio,  ch'  apprezzi  ed 
ami 
La  pace,  e  sdegni  di  Bellona,  e  Marte 
I  noiosi  furor,  le  ingiurie,  e  1'  armi, 
Dator  d'  ogni  salute,  e  d'  ogni  gioia,  100 


Scene  I.l  3(IOCa0ta  279 

Let  every  wight  crave  pardon  for  his  faults 
With  bending  knee  about  his  aultars  here.  go 

Tyr.   Take  here   the  salt,  and   sprincle  ther- 
withall 
About  the  necke :  that  done,  cast  all  the  rest 
Into  the  sacred  fire,  and  then  annoynte 
The  knife  prepared  for  the  sacrifice. 
O  mightie  Jove,  preserve  the  precious  gifte  85 

That  thou  me  gave,  when  first  thine 

^  Venus  made 

angrie  Queene,^  _  him  blynde 

For  deepe  disdayne,  did  both  mine  for  giving 

eyes  do  out !  T^'nThir 

Graunt  me  I  may  foretell  the  truth  in 

this. 
For  but  by  thee  I  know  that  I  ne  may, 
Ne  wil,  ne  can,  one  trustie  sentence  say  90 

Sac.   This  due  is  done. 

Tyr.  With  knife  then  stick  the  kid. 

Sac.  Thou  daughter  of  devine  Tyresias, 
With  those  unspotted  virgins  hands  of  thine 
Receive  the  bloude  within  this  vessell  here. 
And  then  devoutly  it  to  Bacchus  yelde.  95 

Manto.   O    holy  god  of  Thebes,  that   doest 
both  praise 
Swete  peace,  and  doest  in  hart  also  disdayne 
The  noysome  noyse,  the  furies  and  the  fight 
Of  bloudie  Mars  and  of  Bellona  both  ! 
O  thou  the  giver  both  of  joy  and  health,  100 


28o  ^iocasfta  [act  m. 

Gradisci,  o  Bacco,  e  con  pia  man  ricevi 

Questo  debito  a  te  sacro  olocausto : 

E,  come  questa  alma  Citta  t*  adora ; 

Cosi  per  te,  che  lo  puoi  far,  respiri, 

E  da'  nimici  oltraggi  illesa  resti.  105 

Sac.   Or  col  tuo  santo  nome  apro  col  ferro 
La  vittima. 

Tire.  Mi  di'  siccome  stanno 

L'  interiora. 

Sac.  Ben  formate  e  belle 

Son  per  tutto.    II  fegato  e  puro,  e  '1  core 
Senza  difetto  :   e  ver  ch'  egli  non  ave  no 

Piu  ch'  una  fibra ;   appresso  cui  si  vede 
Un  non  so  che,  che  par  putrido  e  guasto ; 
II  qual  levando,  ogn'  intestine  resta 
Intatto  e  sano. 

Tire.  Or  pon  nel  sacro  foco 

Gli  odoriferi  incensi :   indi  m'  avvisa  115 

Del  color  delle  fiamme,  e  d'  altre  cose 
Convenienti  a  vaticinio  vero. 

Sac.   Veggo  la  fiamma  di  color  diversi, 
Qual  sanguigno,  qual  negro,  e  qual  in  parte 
Bigio,  qual  perso,  e  qual  del  tutto  verde.  120 

Tire.   Or  basti  questo  aver  veduto  e  inteso. 
Sappi,  Creonte,  che  la  bella  forma 

120  verde.    Here  the   "Printers'   Errors"  of  O  add  six  lines 
which  are  also  omitted  in  D  : 

II  verde  ci  denota  alcuna  speme 

Di  conservar  la  nostra  patria  in  piede  : 


Scene  I]  31OCa0ta  28 1 

Receive  in  gree  and  with  well  willing  hand 
These  holy  whole  brunt  ofFrings  unto  thee  : 
And  as  this  towne  doth  wholy  thee  adore, 
So  by  thy  helpe  do  graunt  that  it  may  stand 
Safe  from  the  enimies  outrage  evermore.  105 

Sac.   Now,  in  thy  sacred  name,  I  bowell  here 
This  sacrifice. 

Tyr.  And  what  entrails  hath  it  ? 

Sac.   Faire  and  welformed  all  in  every  poynt : 
The  liver  cleane,  the  hart  is  not  infect, 
Save,  loe,  I  finde  but  onely  one  hart  string,         no 
By  which  I  finde  something,  I  wote  nere  what. 
That  seemes  corrupt  ;  and  were  not  onely  that. 
In  all  the  rest  they  are  both  sound  and  hole. 

Tyr.  Now  cast  at  once  into  the  holy  flame 
The  swete  incense,  and  then  advertise  mee         115 
What  hew  it  beares,  and  every  other  ryte 
That  ought  may  helpe  the  truth  for  to  conjecte. 

Sac.   I  see  the  flames  do  sundrie  coulours  cast. 
Now    bloudy    sanguine,    straight    way    purple, 

blew. 
Some  partes  seeme  blacke,  some  gray,  and  some 

be  greene.  izo 

Tyr.   Stay  there  :    sufFyseth   this   for  to  have 
scene  ! 
Know,  Creon,  that  these  outward  seemely  signes 

III  something.    MS.,  somewhat. 
119  purple,  ble^v.    MS.,  purple  blew. 


282  ^tOCa0ta  [Act  III. 

Degli  exti,  appresso  quel  che  mi  dimostra 

II  Signor  che  ogni  cosa  intende  e  vede, 

Dinota  come  la  Citta  di  Tebe  125 

Contra  gli  Argivi  vincitrice  fia, 

Se  avverra  che  consent! :   ma  non  voglio 

Seguir  piu  avanti. 

Cre.  Deh,  per  cortesia 

Segui,  Tiresia,  e  non  aver  rispetto 
Ad  uom  che  viva  a  raccontar  il  vero.  130 

Sac.  In  tanto  me  n'  andro  donde  venuto 
r  son,  poiche  non  lice  a'  Sacerdoti 
Di  trovarsi  presenti  a'  detti  vostri. 

Tire,   Contra   di   quel  ch'  ho    detto,  il    fero 
incesto, 
E  '1  mostruoso  parto  di  Giocasta  135 

Cotanto  ha  mosso  in  ciel  1'  ira  di  Giove, 
Che  innondera  questa  Citta  di  sangue  ; 
Correra  vincitor  per  tutto  Marte 
Con  fochi,  uccision,  rapine,  e  morti : 
Cadranno  gli  edifici  alti  e  superbi,  140 

II  perso,  e  '1  bigio  ci  dimostra  chiaro 
Di  certissimi  affanni  aperto  segno  : 
II  nero  accompagnato  col  sanguigno 
Sangue  minaccia,  e  morti  atri  e  funesti. 


Scene  I.]  3IOCa0ta  283 

(By  that  the  gods  have  let  me  understand, 
Who  know  the  truth  of  every  secrete  thing) 
Betoken  that  the  citie  great  of  Thebes  125 

Shall  victor  be  against  the  Greekish  host, 
If  so  consent  be  given  :   but  more  than  this 
I  lyst  not  say. 

Cre.  Alas,  for  curtesie 

Say  on,  Tyresias,  never  have  respect 
To  any  living  man,  but  tell  the  truth.  130 

Sacerdos  returneth    with   the  BacchanaleSy 
h  ^^^  S^^^^  Homoloides, 
Sac.   In  this  meane  while  I  will  returne  with 
speede 
From  whence  I  came  :   for  lawfull  is  it  not. 
That  suche  as  I  should  heare  your  secresies. 
Tyr.   Contrary  then    to  that   which    I   have 
sayde. 
The  incest  foule  and  childbirth  monstruous         135 
Of  Jocasta  so  stirres  the  wrath  of  Jove, 
This  citie  shall  with  bloudy  channels  swimme. 
And  angry  Mars  shall  overcome  it  all 
With   famine,  flame,    rape,  murther,   dole   and 

death  : 
These  lustie  towres  shall  have  a  headlong  fall,    140 

124  PFAo   .    .    .   thing.    MS.  and  Qi,  Who  understand! th  all, 
and  seith  secret  things. 

125  Betoken.  MS.  and  Qi,  betokenith.         great.  MS.  omits. 
133  secresies.    Qi,  secretnesse. 


284  ^ioca0ta  [actih. 

E  'n  breve  si  dira:  qui  fu  gia  Tebe.  ] 

Sola  una  strada  alia  salute  io  veggo ;  i 

M'  a  te  non  piacera,  Creonte,  udirla, 

Et  a  me  forse  il  dir  non  fia  sicuro.  ( 

Pero  mi  parto,  e  t'  accomando  a  Giove,  145     ^ 

Contento  di  patir  con  gli  altri  insieme 

Tutto  quel  ch'  avverra  di  avversa  sorte. 

Cre.   Fermati,  o  vecchio. 

Tire.  Non  mi  far,  Creonte, 

Forza  a  restar. 

Cre.  Perche  mi  fuggi  ? 

Tire.  Io  certo 

Non  ti  fuggo,  o  Signor,  ma  la  fortuna.  150 

Cre.  Dimmi  quel  che  bisogna  alia  salute 
Delia  Citta. 

Tire.  Creonte,  or  ben  dimostri 

Desio  di  conservarla  :   ma  dappoi 
Ch'  inteso  a  pieno  avrai  quel  che  t'  e  ascoso, 
Non  vorrai  consentir  a  questo  bene.  155 

Cre.  Come  poss'  io  non  desiar  mai  sempre 
U  utile  e  '1  ben  della  Citta  di  Tebe  ? 

Tire.  Dunque  cerchi  d'  udir  e  intender  come 
In  breve  spazio  conservar  la  puoi  ? 


Scene  I.]  3|OCa0ta  285 

These  houses  burnde,  and  all  the  rest  be  razde  ; 
And  soone  be  sayde  :    *'  Here  whilome  Thebes 

stoode." 
One  onely  way  I  finde  for  to  escape, 
Which  bothe  would  thee  displease  to  heare  it 

tolde, 
And  me  to  tell  percase  were  perillous.  145 

Thee  therfore  with  my  travell  I  commende 
To  Jove,  and  with  the  rest  I  will  endure, 
What  so  shall  chaunce  for  our  adversitie. 

Cre.  Yet  stay  a  whyle. 

Tyr.  Creon,  make  me  not  stay 

By  force. 

Cre.        Why  fleest  thou  ? 

Tyr.  Syr,  tis  not  from  thee  150 

I  flee,  but  from  this  fortune  foule  and  fell. 

Cre.  Yet  tell  me  what  behoves  the  citie  doe. 

Tyr.  Thou,  Creon,  seemest  now  desirous  still 
It  to  preserve :   but  if  as  well  as  I 
Thou  knewest  that  which  is  to  thee  unknowne,  155 
Then  wouldst  thou  not  so  soone  consent  thereto. 

Cre.   And  would  not  I  with  eagre  minde  de- 
sire 
The  thing  that  may  for  Thebes  ought  avayle  ? 

Tyr.   And  dost  thou  then  so  instantly  request 
To   know   which  way  thou  mayest   the   same 

preserve  ?  160 


2  86  ^iocasfta  [actiii. 

Cre.  Non  per  altra  cagion  mandai  mio  figlio  i6o 
A  qui  chiamarti. 

Tire.  lo  son,  poiche  tu  brami, 

Per  soddisfarti :   ma  mi  di'  se  teco 
£  Meneceo. 

Cre.  Non  t'  e  molto  discosto. 

Tire.   lo  vorrei  che  '1  mandasti  in  altra  parte. 

Cre.  Per    qual    cagion  non    vuoi    ch'  ei    sia 
presente  ?  165 

Tire.  Non  vo'  ch'  intenda  le  parole  mie. 

Cre.  Ei  m'  e  iigliuol,  ne  le  fara  palesi. 

Tire,  Adunque  io  parlero,  send'  ei  presente  ? 

Cre.  Sappi  ch'  egli,  com'io,  gode  del  bene 
Di  Tebe  nostra. 

Tire.  Intenderai,  Creonte,  170 

Che  la  via  di  salvar  questa  Cittade 
£  tal :  convien  che  '1  tuo  figliuolo  uccidi ; 
Conven  che  per  la  patria  del  suo  corpo 
Vittima  facci :   or  ecco  quel  che  cerchi 
Di  saper  :  e  dappoiche  m'  hai  sforzato  175 

A  dirti  cosa  ch'  io  tacer  volea, 
S'  ofFeso  t'  ho  con  le  parole  mie, 
Di  te  ti  duol,  e  della  tua  fortuna. 


Scene  I]  ^OCaS^ta  287 

Cre.  For  nothing  else   I    sent  my  sonne  of 
late 
To  seeke  for  thee. 

Tyr.  Then  will  I  satisfie 

Thy  greedie  minde  in  this  :   but  first  tell  me, 
Menetius,  where   is   he  ? 

Cre.  Not  farre  from  me. 

Tyr.   I   pray  thee  sende  him  out  some  other 

where.  165 

Cre.  Why  wouldest  thou  that  he  should  not 

be  here  ? 
Tyr.  I   would   not    have  him   heare   what   I 

should  say. 
Cre.   He  is  my  sonne,  ne  will  he  it  reveale. 
Tyr.  And  shall  I  then,  while  he  is  present, 

speake  ? 
Cre.  Yea,  be  thou  sure  that  he,  no  lesse  than  1, 170 
Doth  wishe  full  well  unto  this  common  weale. 
Tyr.  Then,  Creon,    shalt   thou   knowe :   the 
meane  to  save 
This  citie  is  that  thou  shalt  slea  thy  sonne. 
And  of  his  bodie  make  a  sacrifice 
For  his  countrey.    Lo  !   heere  is  all  you  seeke     17s 
So    much   to  knowe ;   and   since    you   have    me 

forst 
To  tell  the  thing  that  I  would  not  have  tolde, 
If  I  have  you  offended  with  my  words. 
Blame  then  your  selfe,  and  eke  your  frowarde 
fate. 


288  ^iocas?ta  [acthi.      j 

Cre.  Ah,  parole  crudeli ;  oime,  che  hai  detto, 
Mai  accorto  indovin  ? 

Tire.  Q^^^  ch'  ordinate  i8o  . 

£  su  nel  ciel  e  di  mestier  che  segua. 

Cre.   O  quanti  mali  in  poco  spazio  hai  chiusi. 
Tire.  Per  te  son  mali,  e  per  la  patria  beni. 
Cre.  Pera    la    patria :    io     non     consento     a 

questo. 
Tire.  La  patria  amar  si  de'  sopra  ogni  cosa.  185 
Cre.  £  crudel  chi  non  ama  i  suoi  figliuoli. 
Tire.  Per  comun  ben  e  ben  che  pianga  un 

solo. 
Cre.  Perdendo  il  mio,  non  vo'  salvar  1'  altrui. 
Tire.  Non  guarda  all'  util  suo  buon  cittadino. 
Cre.   Partiti  omai  coi  vaticinii  tuoi.  '9^ 

Tire.  Sempre  la  verita  sdegno  produce. 
Cre.  Ti  prego  ben  per  quelle  bianche  chiome, 
Tire.  II  mal  che  vien  dal  Ciel  non  puo  schi- 

farsi. 


Scene  I.]  3l0CaS^Ca  289 

Cre.   Oh  cruel  words  !   oh  !  oh !    what  hast 

thou  sayde,  i8o 

Thou  cruell   sothsayer  ? 

Tyr.  Even  that,  that  heaven 

Hath  ordeined  once,  and  needes  it  must  ensue. 
Cre.   How  many  evils   hast  thou  knit  up  in 

one  ! 
Tyr.  Though  evill  for  thee,  yet  for  thy  coun- 

trey  good. 
Cre.  And  let  my  countrey  perishe,  what  care 

I?  185 

Tyr.  "  Above  all  things  we  ought  to  holde  it 

deare." 
Cre.   Cruell  were  he  that  would  not  love  his 

childe. 
Tyr.  "  For  common  weale  were  well  that  one 

man  waile." 
Cre.  To  loose  mine  owne,  I  listc  none  other 

save. 
Tyr.  "  Best    citizens    care    least    for    privat 

gayne."  190 

Cre.   Depart  for  nowe  with  all  thy  prophecies. 
Tyr.  "  Lo,  thus  the  truth  doth  alwayes  hatred 

get." 
Cre.   Yet   pray   I   thee  by   these    thy    silver 

heares  — 
Tyr.  "  The  harme  that  commes  from  heaven 

can  not  be  scapt." 


290  ^iocas^ta  [act  hi. 

Cre.  E  per  quel  sacro  tuo  verace  splrto, 

Tire.  lo  non  posso  disfar  quel  che  fa  il  Cielo.  195 

Cre.   Che  tal  secreto  non  palesi  altrui. 

Tire.  Dunque  tu  mi  conforti  esser  bugiardo  ? 

Cre.   Prego  che  taci. 

Tire.  lo  cio  tacer  non  voglio : 

Ma,  per  darti  nel  mal  qualche  conforto, 
Ti  fo  certo  ch'  al  fin  sarai  Signore  200 

Di  Tebe :   il  che  dimostra  quella  fibra 
Ch'  e  nasciuta  dal  cor  senza  compagna : 
Siccome  ancor  la  particella  guasta 
fe  argomento  verissimo  ch'  approva 
La  morte  di  tuo  figlio. 

Cre.  Sii  contento  205 

Di  non  ridir  giammai  questo  secreto. 

Tire.  lo  nol  debbo  tacer,  ne  vo'  tacerlo. 

Cre.  Dunque  del  mio  figliuol  sarai  omicida  ? 

Tire.  Di  cio  non  me,  ma  la   tua  Stella  in- 
colpa. 

Cre.  E  perche    '1   Ciel    lui  sol    condanna    a 
morte  ?  ^  10 

Tire.  Creder  si  dee  che  la  cagion  sia  giusta. 


Scene  I]  J^OtR^tR  29 1 

Cre.   And  by  thy  holy  spirite  of  prophecie — 195 
Tyr.   "  What  heaven  hath  done,  that   cannot 

I  undoe." 
Cre.   That  to  no   moe  this   secrete  thou  re- 

veale. 
Tyr.   And   wouldst  thou   have   me  learne   to 

make  a  lye  ? 
Cre.   I  pray  thee  hold  thy  peace. 
Tyr.  That  will  I  not ; 

But  in  thy  woe  to  yeelde  thee  some  reliefe,         200 
I  tell  thee  once  thou  shalt  be  lorde  of  Thebes, 
Which  happe  of  thine  this  string  did  well  de- 
clare. 
Which  from  the  heart  doth  out  alonely  growe. 
So  did  the  peece  corrupted  plavnly  shewe 
An  argument  most  evident  to  prove  205 

Thy  Sonne  his  death. 

Cre.  Well,  yet  be  thou  content 

To  keepe  full  close  this  secrete  hidden  griefe. 
Tyr.   I  neither  ought,  ne  will  keepe  it  so  close. 
Cre.   Shall  I  be  then   the   murtherer  of  mine 

owne  ? 
Tyr.   Ne  blame  not  me,  but  blame  the  starres 

for  this.  210 

Cre.   Can  heavens  condemne  but  him  alone 

to  dye  ? 
Tyr.  We  ought  beleeve  the  cause  is  good  and 
just. 

203   alonely.    MS.,  all  only. 


292  €>ioca0ta  [act  m. 

Cre.   Giusto  non  e  chi  1'  innocente  danna. 

Tire.  Pazzo    e   chi   accusa   d'    ingiustizia   il 
Cielo. 

Cre.  Dal  Ciel  non  puo  venir  opra  cattiva. 

Tire.  Adunque  questa  ch'  ei  comanda  e  buona.  215 

Cre.  Creder  non  vo'  che  teco  parli  Giove. 

Tire.  Perch'  io  t'  annunzio  quel  ch'  a  te  non 
piace. 

Cre.  Toglimiti  dinanzi,  empio,  e  bugiardo. 

Tire.  Figliuola,  andiamo.    Pazzo   e  ben  chi 
adopra 
L'  arte  d'  indovinar  :   perocche,  s'  ei  220 

Predice  altrui  talor  le  cose  avverse, 
Odio  n'  acquista ;  e  s'  egli  tace  il  vero, 
Offende  i  Dei.    Era  mestier  che  Apollo 
Predicesse  il  futuro  :   io  dico  Apollo, 
Che  non  puo  temer  di  nimica  offesa  ;  225 

Ma  drizziamo,  figliuola,  i  passi  altrove. 


Scene  L]  3|0Cafifta  293 

Cre.  "  Unjust  is  he  condemnes  the  innocent." 
Tyr.  "  A     foole     is     he     accuseth        Great  follye 

heavens  of  wrongs."  to  accuse 

Cre.   "  There  can  no  ill  thing  come        t  e  go  s. 

from  heavens  above."  ^^5 

Tyr.  Then  this  that  heaven  commaunds  can 

not  be  ill. 
Cre.  I  not  beleeve  that  thou  hast  talkt  with 

God. 
Tyr.   Bicause  I  tell  thee  that  doth  thee  dis- 
please. 
Cre.   Out  of  my  sight,  accursed  lying  wretch  ! 
Tyr.   Go,   daughter,  go ;   oh,  what        ^  ^^^^^^ 
foole  is  he  office  to 

That  puts  in  ure  to  publish  prophecies  !        foretell  a 
"  For  if  he  do  fore  tell  a  froward  fate,        ^  c  e  e. 
Though  it  be  true,  yet  shall  he  purchase  hate  : 
And  if  he  silence  keepe,  or  hide  the  truth. 
The  heavy  wrath  of  mightie  gods  ensuth."  225 

Appollo  he  might  well  tell  things  to  come, 
That  had  no  dread  the  angry  to  ofFende. 
But  hye  we,  daughter,  hence  some  other  way. 
Tyresias,    with    Manto    his    daughter,   re- 
turn eth  by  the  gates  called  Electree. 

217  talkt,    MS.,  talk. 

220  what  foole.    MS.  and  Qi,  what  a  foole. 


294  (S^ioca^ta  [act  m. 

[SCENA    2.] 

Creonte,  Meneceo. 

Creonte.   Caro  figliuolo  mio,  1'  empia  novella 
Contra  di  te  dell'  Indovino  hai  intesa  : 
Ma  non  saro  giammai  tanto  crudele, 
Ch'  i'  consenta,  o  figliuolo,  alia  tua  morte. 

Meneceo.  Anzi  dovete  consentir  ch'  io  mora, 
Padre,  dappoiche  '1  mio  morir  fia  quello 
Ch'  apporti  alia  Citta  vittoria,  e  pace. 
Ne  si  puo  far  la  piii  lodata  morte, 
Che  per  ben  della  patria  uscir  di  vita. 

Cre.  Non  lodo  questa  tua  mal  sana  mente. 

Men.  Sapete,  padre  mio,  la  vita  nostra 
Esser  fragile  e  corta,  e  veramente 
Non  altro  tutta,  che  travagli  e  pene : 
E  morte,  ch'  ad  alcun  par  tanto  amara, 
Porto  tranquil  delle  miserie  umane ; 
Alia  qual  chi  piu  tosto  arriva  e  giunto 


Scene  n.]  31OCa0ta  295 

SCENA     2. 

Creon,  Meneceus. 

^Creon.']    Oh  my  deare  childe,  well  hast  thou 
heard  with  eare 
These  weery  newes,  or  rather  wicked  tales 
That  this  devine  of  thee  devined  hath  : 
Yet  will  thy  father  never  be  thy  foe, 
With  cruell  doome  thy  death  for  to  consent.  f 

Meneceus.   You    rather   ought,    O    father,   to 
consent 
Unto  my  death,  since  that  my  death         No  greater 

,     .  honor  than 

may  brmg  ,„  ^^^  f^. 

Unto  this  towne  both  peace  and  vie-       thy  coun- 

torie.  ^'^y- 

"  Ne  can  I  purchase  more  prayse  worthy  death 
Than    for    my    countries    wealth    to    lose    my 

breath."         '  ic 

Cre.   I  cannot  prayse  this  witlesse  will  of  thine. 
Me.  "  You   know,  deare   father,  that  this  life 

of  ours 
Is  brittle,  short,  and  nothing  else  in  deede 
But  tedious  toyle  and  pangs  of  endlesse  payne  ; 
And  death,  whose  darte  to  some  men        Death  (in- 

■  seemes  so  fell,  ^^f)  >'^^^- 

T^   .  .  ,  1  .  .       ,.  -  eth  more 

Bongs  quiet  ende  to  this  unquiet  lite  ;        pleasure 
Unto  which   ende   who   soonest   doth       than  lyfe. 
arrive. 


296  ^ioca0ta  iact  m. 

Piu  tosto  dagli  afFanni  al  suo  riposo. 

Ma,  posto  che  quaggiu  non  si  sentisse 

Punto  di  noia,  e  non  turbasse  mai 

II  bel  nostro  seren  1'  empia  fortuna ;  20 

Essendo  io  nato  per  morir,  non  fora 

Opra  di  gloria,  e  chiaro  nome  degna 

A  donar  alia  patria  ov'  io  son  nato 

Per  lungo  bene  un  breve  spazio  d'  anni  ? 

Io  non  credo  ch'  alcun  questo  mi  neghi.  25 

Or,  se  a  vietar  si  gloriosa  impresa 

Cagion  sola  di  me,  padre,  vi  move ; 

V  avviso  che  cercate  di  levarmi 

Tutto  il  maggior  onor  ch'  acquistar  possa : 

Se  per  vostra  cagion,  dovete  meno  ;  30 

Perocche  quanto  maggior  parte  avete 

In  Tebe,  tanto  piii  dovreste  amarla. 

Appresso  avete  Emon,  ch'  in  vece  mia, 

Padre  mio  caro,  rimarra  con  voi  ; 

Onde,  benche  di  me  sarete  privo,  35 

Non  sarete  pero  privo  di  iigli. 

Cre.  Io   non    posse,  o  figliuol,  se  non  bias- 
mare 
Questo  ch'  hai  di  morir  troppo  desio : 


Scene  n.]  J[Otn&tn  297 

Finds  soonest  rest  of  all  his  restlesse  griefe. 

And  were  it  so,  that  here  on  earth  we  felte 

No  pricke  of  paine,  nor  that  our  flattring  dayes    20 

Were  never  dasht  by  froward  fortunes  frowne, 

Yet  being  borne  (as  all  men  are)  to  dye, 

Were  not  this  worthy  glory  and  renowne  — 

To   yeelde   the   countrey    soyle,   where    I    was 

borne. 
For  so  long  time  so  shorte  a  time  as  mine  ?  "       ^5 
I  can  not  thinke  that  this  can  be  denied. 
Then  if  to  shunne  this  haughtie  high  behest, 
Mine  onely  cause,  O  father,  doth  you  move. 
Be  sure  you  seeke  to  take  from  me,  your  sonne, 
The  greatest  honor  that  I  can  attayne ;  30 

But  if  your  owne  commoditie  you  move, 
So  much  the  lesse  you  ought  the  same  allowe  ; 
For   looke,  how   much    the   more   you   have  in 

Thebes, 
So  much  the  more  you  ought  to  love  the  same. 
Here  have  you  Hemone,  he  that  in  my  steade      35 
(O  my  deare  father)  may  with  you  remaine. 
So  that,  although  you  be  deprived  of  me. 
Yet  shall  you  not  be  quite  deprived  of  heires. 
Cre.   I   can   not   chuse,  deare  sonne,  but  dis- 

alowe 
This  thy  too  hastie,  bote  desire  of  death ;  40 

24  borne^    MS.  places  a  (?)  after  this  word. 

25  as  mine  f    MS.,  is  mine  ! 


298  €>ioca0ta  [act  m. 

Che,  se  della  tua  vita  non  ti  cale, 

Ti  dovrebbe  doler  di  me  tuo  padre ;  40 

II  qual,  quanto  piu  innanzi  vo  poggiando 

Nella  vecchiezza,  tanto  ho  piu  bisogno 

Delia  tua  aita.    lo  gia  negar  non  voglio 

Che  '1  morir  per  la  patria  non  apporti 

A  gentil  cittadin  gloria  et  onore ;  45 

M'  allor  quando  si  muor  con  1'  arme  in  mano, 

Non  come  bestia  in  sacriiizio  uccisa. 

E  se  pur  deve  consentir  alcuno, 

Per  tal  cagione,  a  volontaria  morte, 

Debbo  esser  io  quell'  un  ;   che  essendo  visso         50 

Assai  corso  di  tempo,  e  breve  e  poco 

Quel  che  mi  resta  di  fornir  ancora : 

Et  utile  maggior  la  patria  nostra 

Puo  sperar,  figliuol  mio,  dalla  tua  vita, 

Che  sei  giovane  e  forte,  che  non  puote  55 

Sperar  da  un  vecchio,  omai  debole  e  stance. 

Vivi  adunque,  figliuol,  ch'  io  morir  voglio, 

Come  di  te  gia  di  morir  piu  degno. 

Men.   Degno  non  e  si  indegno  cambio  farsi. 

Cre.   Se  in  tal  morir  e  gloria,  a  me  la  dona.      60 

Men.   Non  voi,  me  chiama  a  questa  morte  il 
Cielo. 

Cre.  Ambi   siamo   un    sol   corpo,   ambi   una 
carne. 

Men.   Padre,  io  debbo  morir,  non  voi. 


Scene  II.l 


31oca0ta  299 


For  if  thy  life  thou  settest  all  so  lighte, 
Yet  oughtest  thou  thy  father  me  respect, 
Who  as  I  drawe  the  more  to  lumpishe  age, 
So  much  more  neede  have  I  to  crave  thine  ayde  : 
Ne  will  I  yet  with  stubborne  tong  denye,  45 

"  That  for  his  common  weale  to  spende  his  life, 
Doth  win  the  subject  high  renoumed  name. 
But  howe  ?  in  armour  to  defende  the  state. 
Not  like  a  beast  to  bleede  in  sacrifice  :  " 
And  therwithal,  if  any  shoulde  consent  50 

To  such  a  death,  then  should  the  same  be  I, 
That  have  prolonged  life  even  long  enough, 
[Ne]   many  dayes  have  I  nowe  to  drawe  on  ; 
And  more  availe  might  to  the  countrie  come, 
Deare  sonne,  to  hold  that  lustie  life  of  thine,        55 
That  art  both  yong  and  eke  of  courage  stout. 
Than  may  by  me  that  feeble  am  and  olde. 
Then  live,  deare  sonne,  in  high  prosperitie. 
And  give  me  leave,  that  worthy  am,  to  dye. 

Me.  Yet    worthy    were    not   that   unworthy 

chaunge.  60 

Cre.   If  such  a  death  bring  glorie,  give  it  me. 

Me.   Not  you,  but  me,  the  heavens  cal  to  die. 

Cre.   We  be  but  one  in  flesh  and  body  both. 

Me.   I,  father,  ought,  so   ought   not  you,  to 
die. 

43  lumpishe.    MS.,  lymping. 

53  Ne.    Q2,  Nay.    MS.  and  Qi,  Ne.    Q3,  Not. 


300  ^tOtaS?ta  [Act  m. 

Cre.  Morendo 

Tu,  non  pensar,  iigliuol,  ch'  io  resti  in  vita. 
Lassa  adunque  ch'  io  mora,  che  in  tal  modo 
Morra,  figlio,  chi  deve,  e  morra  un  solo. 

Men.   Padre,  siccome,  essendovi  iigliuolo, 
Debito  officio  e  1'  obbedirvi  sempre ; 
Cosi  in  questo  sarebbe  empio  e  crudele 
II  voler  consentir  a  vostre  voglie. 

Cre.   Troppo  sei  ingenioso  al  proprio  danno. 

Men.^  Pieta  m'  insegna  a  desiar  tal  morte. 

Cre.  E  ^2iTjTjO  r  uom  che  se  medesmo  uccide. 

Men.  Savio  e  chi  cerca  d'  obbedir  ai  Dei. 

Cre.   Gia    non    vogliono   i    Dei    d'    alcun  la 
morte. 

Men.   Ei  ci  tolgon  la  vita,  ei  ce  la  danno. 

Cre.  Questo  sarebbe  da  se  stesso  torla. 

Men,   Anzi    obbedir    a    chi    non    vuol   ch'  io 
viva. 

Cre.  Qual    peccato,    o    iigliuol,    ti   danna   a 
morte  ? 

Men.  Padre,  chi  e  che  non  commetta  errore  ? 


Scene  n.]  ^OtdL&tU  3OI 

Cre.  If  thou,  Sonne,  die,  thinke  not   that   I 

can  live  :  65 

Then  let  me  die,  and  so  shall  he  first  die 
That  ought  to  die,  and  yet  but  one  shal  die. 
Me.   Although   I,   father,  ought  t'obey  your 

hestes. 
Yet  evill  it  were  in  this  to  yelde  your  will. 

Cre.   Thy  wit  is  wylie  for  to  worke  thy  wo.     70 
Ale.   Oh,  tender  pitie  moveth  me  thereto. 
Cre.  "  A  beast  is  he  that  kils  himselfe  with  a 

knife 
Of  pitie  to  preserve  an  others  life." 

Me.  "  Yet   wise  is   he   that   doth   obey   the 

gods." 
Cre.  The    gods    will   not  the   death   of  any 

wight.  75 

Me.  "Whose  life  they  take,  they  give  him 

life  also." 
Cre.  But  thou  dost  strive  to  take  thy  life  thy 

selfe. 
Me.  Nay  them  to  obey  that  will  I   shall  not 

live. 
Cre.  What  fault,  O  sonne,  condemneth  thee 

to  death  ? 
Me.  "  Who   liveth    (father)    here   without    a 

fault  ?  "  80 

69  e'vi/I  it  ivere.    MS.,  well  were  not.    Qi,  evil  were  not, 
in  this  to.    Qi,  to  this.  70  thy.    Qi,  this, 

72  a.    Omitted  in  MS.  and  Qi.       73  an.    MS.,  some. 


302  ^iocasfta  [act  m. 

Cre,  Error  non  veggo  in  te  degno  di  morte. 

Men.  Lo  vede  Giove  che  discerne  il  tutto. 

Cre.  Noi  saper  non  potem  qual  e  sua  voglia. 

Men.  Sapemo  allor  ch'  ei  ce  la  fa  palese. 

Cre.   Quasi  ch'  ei  scenda  a  ragionar  con  noi.   85 

Men.   Per  vari  mezzi  il  suo  secreto  ei  n'  apre. 

Cre.  Pazzo   e   ch'  intender  pensa  il  suo  se- 
creto : 
E,  per  finir  questa  contesa  nostra, 
lo  ti  dico  che  vo'  ch'  ambi  viviamo ; 
Pero  disponti  ad  ubbidirmi,  e  lascia  9° 

Questa  ostinata  tua  non  dritta  voglia. 

Men.  Voi  potete  di  me  quanto  di  voi : 
E  poiche  tanto  v'  e  mia  vita  cara, 
lo  la  conservero,  perche  a    tutt'  ora 
Spender  la  possa  a  beneficio  vostro.  95 

Cre.   Dunque  e  bisogno  che  tantosto  sgombri 
Delia  Citta,  pria  che  Tiresia  audace 
Pubblichi  quel  che  non  e  inteso  ancora. 

Men.  Dove,  et  a  qual  Citta  debbo  ridurmi  ? 


Scene  H]  3|0CaSfta  3O3 

Cre.  I  see  no  gylte  In  thee  that  death  deserves. 
Me.  But  God  it  seeth  that  every  secrete  seeth. 
Cre.   How  shoulde  we  knowe  what  is  the  will 

of  God  ? 
Me.  We  knowe  it  then,  when  he  reveales  the 

same. 
Cre.  As  though  he  would  come  doune  to  tell 

it  us  !  ^5 

Me.  By  divers  meanes  his  secrets  he  disclos- 

eth. 
Cre.   Oh,  fonde  is  he,  who  thinkes  to  under- 
stand 
The  mysteries  of  Jove  his  secrete  mynde  ; 
And  for  to  ende  this  controversie  here, 
Loe  !   thus  I  say,  I  will  we  both  live  yet ;  90 

Prepare  thee  then,  my  (*)   hestes  to        Commaunde- 

holde  and  keepe,  "^^nts. 

And  pull  a  downe  that  stubborne  heart  of  thyne. 
Me.   You  may  of  me  as  of  your  selfe  dispose, 
And  since  my  life  doth  seeme  so  deare  to  you, 
I  will  preserve  the  same  to  your  availe,  95 

That  I  may  spende  it  alwayes  to  your  wil. 
Cre.  Then  thee  behoves  out  of  this  towne  to 
flie. 
Before  the  bold  and  blinde  Tyresias 
Doe  publish  this  that  is  as  yet  unknowne. 

Me.  And  where,  or  in  what  place  shall  I  be- 
come ?  ^00 


304  ^ioca0ta  [act  m. 

Ore.  Dove  da  questa  sii  via  piu  lontano.  i« 

Men.  Voi  comandar,  io  satisfarvi  deggio. 

Cre.  N'  andrai  al  terreno  di  Tesbroti. 

Men.  Dove 

La  sacra  fede  e  di  Dodona  ? 

Cre.  Questa 

Intendo,  o  figlio. 

Men.  E  chi  de'  passi  miei 

Sara  guida  e  custode  ? 

Cre.  II  padre  Giove.  105 

Men.  Onde  verra  il  sostegno  alia  mia  vita  ? 

Cre.  Quivi  io  ti  mandero  gran  copia  d'  oro. 

Men.   Quando  vi  vedro  io,  padre  mio  caro  ? 

Cre.  Spero  ch'  in  breve  con  maggior  ventura. 
Or  ti  diparti;   ch'  ogni  poco  indugio  1 

Mi  potrebbe  recar  pena  e  tormento. 

Men.  Prima  toglier  io  vo',  padre,  congedo 
Dalla  Reina,  che,  send'  io  rimaso 
Privo  di  madre,  mi  die  il  latte  primo. 

Cre.  Piu  non  tardar,  figliuolo. 

Men.  Ecco  ch'  io  parto.      115 

109  •ventura.  O,  D,  venuta,  corrected  in   "  Printers^  Errors'*^ 
ofD. 


Scene  IL]  3|OCa0ta  305 

Cre.   Where  thou  mayste  be  hence  furthest 

out  of  sight. 
Me.  You  may  commaunde,  and  I  ought  to 

obey. 
Cre.   Go  to  the  lande  of  Thesbeoita  — 
Me.   Where  Dodona  doth  sit  in  sacred  chaire  ? 
Cre.   Even  there,  my  childe.  105 

Me.   And  who  shall  guide  my  wandring  steps  ? 
Cre.  High  Jove. 

Me.  Who  shal  give  sustenance  for  my  reliefe  ? 
Cre.   There  will  I  send  thee  heapes  of  glist- 

ring  golde. 
Me.   But  when  shall  I  eftesoones  my  father 

see  ? 
Cre.  Ere  long,  I   hope  :   but  now,  for  now, 

depart ; 
For  every  lingring  let  or  little  stay  no 

May  purchase  payne  and  torment  both  to  me. 
Me.   First   would    I   take    my   conge    of  the 

Queene 
That,  since  the  day  my  mother  lost  hir  life, 
Hath  nourisht  me  as  if  I  were  hir  owne.  115 

Cre.   Oh,  tarry  not,  my  deare  sonne,  tarry  not. 
Cre  on  goeth  out  by  the  gates  Homoioydes. 
Me.   Beholde,  father,  I  goe.    You  dames  of 

Thebes, 

103    Thesbeoita.     MS.   and    Qi,   Thesbrotia.      Hazlitt,    Thes- 
protia. 

Creon   ,  .    .    Homoioydes,  MS.      Qq  put  this  before  line  1 16. 


306  SiOtnUtn  [Act  m. 

Donne,  pregate  voi  pel  mio  ritorno. 
Vedete  ben  come  malvagia  Stella 
M'  induce  a  gir  della  mia  patria  fuora : 
E,  s*  egli  avvien  ch'  io  finisca  avante 
Questa  mia  giovenil  dolente  vita, 
Onoratemi  voi  del  vostro  pianto. 
In  tanto  anch'  io  per  la  salute  vostra 
Preghero  sempre,  ov'  io  men  vada,  i  Dei. 

CORO. 

Quando  colei  ch'  in  su  la  rota  siede 

Volge  il  torbido  aspetto 

Air  uom  che  '1  suo  seren  godea  felice, 

Non  cessa  di  girar  1'  instabil  piede. 

Fin  ch'  ad  ogni  miseria  il  fa  soggetto  : 

E,  come  pianta  svelta  da  radice, 

Egli  non  piu  ritorna 

Onde  r  ha  spinto  quella, 

Del  nostro  ben  rubella : 

E  se  pur  torna,  non  puo  gir  di  paro 

II  dolce  suo  col  gia  gustato  amaro. 


Scene  II.]  3(|OCa0ta  307 

Pray  to  almightie  Jove  for  my  retourne  : 
You  see  how  mine  unhappie  starres  me  drive 
To  go  my  countrie  fro;   and  if  so  chaunce  120 

I  ende  in  woe  my  pryme  and  lustie  yeares, 
Before  the  course  of  nature  do  them  call, 
Honor  my  death  yet  with  your  drery  plaints  ; 
And  I  shall  eke,  where  so  this  carkas  come. 
Pray  to  the  gods  that  they  preserve  this  towne.  125 
Meneceus  departeth  by  the  gates  Electrce. 

Chorus. 

When  she  that  rules  the  rolling  wheele  of 
chaunce. 
Doth  turne  aside  hir  angrie  frowning  face 
On  him,  whom  erst  she  deigned  to  advance, 
She  never  leaves  to  gaulde  him  with  disgrace, 
To  tosse  and  turne  his  state  in  every  place,  5 

Till  at  the  last  she  hurle  him  from  on  high. 
And  yeld  him  subject  unto  miserie  : 

And  as  the  braunche  that  from  the  root  is  reft, 
He  never  winnes  like  [leafe]  to  that  he  lefte  ; 

Yea,  though  he  do,  yet  can  not  tast  of  joy        10 
Compare  with  pangs  that  past  in  his  annoy. 

Well  did  the  heavens  ordeine  for  our  behoofe 

i^  gaulde.      Ql,  galde.      Q3,  gall. 

9  leafe.      So  in  Qi,  "  Faultes  escaped  correction."      MS.,  lefe. 
Qi  (^.^0,Q2,  Q3,life. 

10  not.      MS.  and  Qi,  no. 


308  MOtn&tn  [Act  m. 

Dura  necessita  ben  pose  il  Cielo 
Sovra  r  umane  cose  j 
Che,  per  veder  il  nostro  male  avanti, 
(Come  bendasse  gli  occhi  oscuro  velo) 
Perche  non  sian  le  voglie  al  ben  ritrose, 
Non  possiamo  trovar  riparo  ai  pianti : 
Onde  la  sorte  ria 
Chi  contende  per  forza 
Tira ;  e  chi  alia  sua  forza 
Cede  adduce  in  un  punto  alia  ruina 
Che  '1  Ciel  per  nostro  mal  spesso  destina. 
Saggio  nocchier,  s'  a  gran  periglio  mira 
II  combattuto  legno 
Or  quinci,  or  quindi  da  contrari  venti, 
La,  Ve  grave  del  Ciel  lo  caccia  1'  ira, 
Sol  [c]  a  r  ondoso  regno, 
Quantunque  del  suo  fin  tremi  e  paventi : 
Perche  conosce,  e  'ntende 
Ch'  a  chi  col  ciel  contrasta 
Uman  saper  non  basta  : 
Ond'  ei,  ponendo  in  Dio  tutto  '1  conforto, 
Sovente  arriva  al  desiato  porto. 

22    C/ie  7  Gel.    O,  Che  quel 
27  so/ca.    O,  Dj  solea. 


Chorus]  31OCa0ta  309 

Necessitie  and  fates  by  them  alowde, 
That  when  we  see  our  high  mishappes  aloofe 
(As  though  our  eyes  were  mufled  with  a  cloude)  15 
Our    froward   will    doth    shrinke    it    selfe,   and 

shrowde 
From  our  availe,  wherwith  we  runne  so  farre, 
As  none  amends  can  make  that  we  do  marre  ; 
Then  drawes  evill  happe  and  strives  to  shew 

his  strength  : 
And  such  as  yeld  unto  his  might,  at  length  20 

He  leades  them  by  necessitie  the  way 
That  destinie  preparde  for  our  decay. 

The  mariner,  amidde  the  swelling  seas 
Who    seeth    his    barke    with    many   a    billowe 

beaten, 
Now  here,  now  there,  as  wind  and  waves  best 

please,  25 

When    thundring    Jove    with    tempest    list    to 

threaten. 
And  dreades  in  depest  gulfe  for  to  be  eaten, 
Yet  learnes  a  meane  by  mere  necessitie 
To  save  himselfe  in  such  extremitie  : 

For  when   he   seeth   no   man   hath  witte  nor 

powre  30 

To  flie  from  fate,  when  fortune  list  to  lowre. 
His  only  hope  on  mightie  Jove  doth  caste, 
Whereby  he  winnes  the  wished  heaven  at  last. 

33   heafen.    MS.  and  Qi,  haven. 


310  ^iocasfta  [actih. 

Sciocco  e  chi  crede  che  '1  gran  Padre  eterno, 
Che  la  su  tempra  e  move  35 

Ad  uno  ad  uno  i  bei  lucenti  giri, 
Non  abbia  di  quaggiu  tutto  '1  governo 
A  tal,  che  non  si  trove 
Poter  che  senza  lui  si  stenda,  o  giri. 
O  noi  ciechi  del  tutto  40 

E  miseri  mortali, 
Soggetti  a  tanti  mali ; 
Che,  per  esser  digiun  di  pene  e  guai, 
Meglio  fora  ad  alcun  non  nascer  mai. 

Poteva  ben  con  la  morte  del  figlio  45 

(Se  predir  suole  il  vero 
Tiresia,  del  futur  certo  indovino) 
Trar  la  patria  d'  afFanno  e  di  periglio  : 
Ma  lontano  e  '1  pensiero 

Dall'  utile  comun  lungo  cammino,  50 

Quando  far  non  si  puote 
Senza  alcun  proprio  danno. 
Ecco  siccome  vanno 
Dritto  a  ruina  le  pubbliche  cose, 
Se  a  quelle  le  private  alcun  prepose.  55 

Pur  noi  non  cesseremo 
Di  pregar,  Giove,  tua  bonta,  che  toglia 
La  Citta  dell'  assedio,  e  noi  di  doglia. 

48    Trar  .  .  .  periglio.     In  "  Printers'  Errors  "  of  O,  Creonte  trar 
la  patria  di  periglio. 


Chorus]  ^I^CaSfta  3II 

How  fond  is  that  man  in  his  fantasie, 
Who  thinks  that  Jove,  the  maker  of  us  al,  35 

And  he  that  tempers  all  in  heaven  on  high, 
The  sunne,  the  mone,  the  starres  celestiall, 
So  that  no  leafe  without  his  leave  can  fall. 
Hath  not  in  him  omnipotence  also 
To  guide  and  governe  all  things  here  below  !        4° 

O  blinded  eies,  O  wretched  mortall  wights, 
O  subject  slaves  to  every  ill  that  lights. 

To  scape  such  woe,  such  paine,  such  shame 
and  scorne, 
Happie  were  he  that  never  had  bin  borne  ! 

Well  might  duke  Creon,  driven  by  destinie,     45 
(If  true  it  be  that  olde  Tyresias  saith) 
Redeme  our  citie  from  this  miserie 
By  his  consent  unto  Aleneceus  death. 
Who  of  himselfe  wold  faine  have  lost  his  breth  : 
"  But  every  man  is  loth  for  to  fulfill  50 

The  heavenly  best  that  pleaseth  not  his  will. 

That  publique  weale  must  needes  to  ruine  go. 
Where  private  profite  is  preferred  so." 

Yet,  mightie  God,  thy  onlv  aide  we  crave. 
This  towne  from  siege  and  us  from  sorowe  save.   55 

42  /•//.    MS.  and  Qi,  evill. 


Finis  Actus  tertii.     Done  by  G.  Gascoygne. 

Done  by  G.   Gascoygne.    Ql  omits. 


The  order  of  the  fourth 
dumbe  shewe 

Before  the  beginning  of  this  fourth  Acte,  the 
trumpets,  drummes  and  fifes  sounded,  and  a 
greate  peale  of  ordinaunce  was  shot  of:  in  the 
which  ther  entred  upon  the  stage  vi  knights 
armed  at  al  points  :  wherof  three  came  in  by  the  5 
gates  Electrae,  and  the  other  three  by  the  gates 
Homoloides  :  either  parte  beeing  accompanied 
with  vii  other  armed  men  :  and  after  they  had 
marched  twice  or  thrice  about  the  stage,  the 
one  partie  menacing  the  other  by  their  furious  10 
lookes  and  gestures,  the  vi  knights  caused  their 
other  attendants  to  stand  by,  and  drawing  their 
swords,  fell  to  cruell  and  couragious  combate, 
continuing  therein,  till  two  on  the  one  side  were 
slayne.  The  third,  perceiving  that  he  only  re-  15 
mayned  to  withstand  the  force  of  iii  enimies,  did 
politiquely  runne  aside  :  wherewith  immediatly 
one  of  the  iii  followed  after  him,  and  when  he 
had  drawen  his  enimie  thus  from  his  companie, 
hee  turned  againe   and   slewe   him,    Then   the  20 

2  the    trumpets  .   .    .  fifes.       MS.    and    Qi,    the    Trompetts 
sounded,  the  droomes  and  fyfes. 


^\)t  ortier  of  t\)t  fourtt)  Dumbe  0^etoe  313 

seconde  also  ranne  after  him,  whom  he  slewe 
in  like  manner,  and  consequently  the  thirde,  and 
then  triumphantly  marched  aboute  the  stage 
wyth  hys  sword  in  his  hand.  Hereby  was  noted 
the  incomparable  force  of  Concorde  betwene  25 
brethren,  who  as  long  as  they  holde  togither 
may  not  easily  by  any  meanes  be  overcome,  and, 
being  once  dissevered  by  any  meanes,  are  easily 
overthrowen.  The  history  of  the  brethren  Ho- 
ratii  and  Curiatii,  who  agreed  to  like  combate  30 
and  came  to  like  ende.  After  that  the  dead  car- 
kasses  were  caried  from  the  stage  by  the  armed 
men  on  both  parties,  and  that  the  victor  was 
triumphantly  accompanied  out  also,  came  in  a 
messanger  armed  from  the  campe,  seeking  the  35 
Queene,  and  to  hir  spake  as  foloweth. 

26   Ao/de.   Q3,  doo  holde. 

34  also.  Q({,  comma  before  a/so  instead  of  after. 


Atto  Quarto. 

[SCENA    I.] 

Nuncio f  Gio casta. 

Nuncio.  O  saggie  ancelle,  o  secretarie  fide 
Delia  vecchia  Reina,  or  lei  menate, 
Menate  fuor,  ch'  io  le  rapporto  nuova 
Che  molto  importa.    Uscite  fuori,  uscite, 
Reina;  e  omai  lasciate  le  querele, 
E  alle  parole  mie  porgete  orecchia. 

Giocasta.   O  caro  servo  mio,  di  nuova  pena 
Mi  vien  tu  forse  messaggiero  ?    Ahi  lassa ; 
Ch'  e  d'  Eteocle  mio,  di  cui  solevi 
Esser  mai  sempre  in  ogni  impresa  a  lato, 
E  gli  facevi  ogn'  or  riparo  e  scudo  ? 
Viv'  egli,  o  pur  nella  battaglia  e  morto  ? 

Nun.  Vive.    Di  questo  non  abbiate  tema ; 
Che  tosto  io  vi  trarro  di  tal  sospetto. 


Actus  iiii.    Scena  i. 

Nuncius^  'Jocasta. 

Nuncius  commeth  in  by  the  gates  Homoloides. 

\Nuncius?\^  O  sage  and  sober  dames,  O  shame- 
fast  maids, 
O  faithful  servants  of  our  aged  Queene, 
Come,  leade  hir  forth,  sith  unto  hir  I  bring 
Such  secrete  newes  as  are  of  great  importe. 
Come   forth,  O    Queene,  surceasse   thy   wofull 

plaint. 
And  to  my  words  vouchsafe  a  willing  eare. 

The  Queene  with  hir  traine  commeth  out  of 
hir  pallace. 
"Jocasta.   My   servant    deare,   doest  thou   yet 
bring  me  newes 
Of  more  mishappe  ?  ah  werie  wretch,  alas  ! 
How  doth  Eteocles  whom  heretofore. 
In  his  encreasing  yeares,  I  wonted  ay. 
From  daungerous  happe  with  favoure  to  defend  ? 
Doth  he  yet  live  ?  or  hath  untimely  death 
In  cruell  fight  berefte  his  flowring  life  ? 

Nun,   He  lives  (O  Queene)  :  hereof  have  ye 
no  doubt ; 
From  such  suspecte  my  selfe  will  quit  you  soone. 

II  favoure.   Hazlitt,  fervoure.  15  you.  MS.,  ye. 


31 6  €^iOta0ta  [Act  IV. 

Gio.   Han  forse  la  cittade  i  Greci  presa  ?  15 

Nun.  Lo  tolga  Iddio. 

Gio.  Forse  le  genti  nostre 

Son  rotte,  o  poste  a  qualche  gran  periglio  ? 

Nun.  Fur  certo  a  gran  periglio  d'  esser  rotte, 
Poi  n'  hanno  avuto  la  vittoria  al  fine. 

Gio.  Ma  che  avvenuto  e,  oime,  di  Polinice  ?     20 
Mi  sai  tu  raccontar  s'  e  morto,  o  vivo  ? 

Nun.  Vive,  o  Reina,  1'  uno,  e  V  altro  figlio. 

Gio.  O  di  quanto  dolor  m*  hai  tratto  fuori. 
Segui  adunque,  e  mi  di'  siccome  avete 
Ribattuti  i  nemici ;  acciocch'  io  possa  25 

Racconsolarmi  di  saper  che  sia 
Fin  qui  serbata  la  Citta  di  Tebe : 
Forse  del  resto  allegrerammi  Giove. 

Nun.  Appena  ebbe  divisi  i  sette  Duci 
II  vostro  forte  e  generoso  figlio,  30 

E  postogli  a  difesa  delle  porte, 
Opponendo  con  ordine  perfetto 
Alia  cavalleria  degli  inimici 
La  nostra,  et  ai  pedon  le  genti  a  piedi; 


Scene  I]  ^OtU^tM  317 

yoc.  The  ventrous  Greekes   have  haply  tane 
the  towne  ? 

N'un.  The  gods  forbid  ! 

yoc.  Our  souldiers,  then,  perchance 

Dispersed  bene  and  yelden  to  the  sword  ? 

A'^un.  Not  so,   they  were  at   first  in    daunger 
sure, 
But  in  the  end  obteined  victorie.  20 

yoc.  Alas,  then  what  becommes  of  Polynice  ? 
Oh,  canst  thou  tell  ?  is  he  dead  or  alive  ? 

Nun.  You  have  (O  Queene)  yet   both   your 
sonnes  alive. 

yoc.   Oh,  how  my  harte  is  eased  of  his  paine  ! 
Well,  then,  proceede,  and  briefly  let  me  heare      25 
How  ye  repulst  your  proud  presuming  foes, 
That  thereby  yet  at  least  I  may  assuage 
The  swelling  sorrowes  in  my  dolefull  brest, 
In  tha't  the  towne  is  hitherto  preservde  : 
And  for  the  rest,  I  trust  that   [mightie]  Jove        30 
Will  yeld  us  ayde. 

N'un.  No  soner  had  your  worthy  valiant  sonne 
Severde  the  dukes  into  seaven  severall  partes. 
And  set  them  to  defence  of  severall  gates. 
And  brought  in  brave  arraye  his  horssemen  out  35 
First  to  encounter  with  their  mightie  foen, 
And  likewise  pitcht  the  footemen  face  to  face 

24  his.  MS.  and  Qi,  this. 

36   mightie,  so  in  MS.      Q2,  might. 


3i8  ^ioca^ta  [activ.     | 

Che  veggiamo  1'  esercito  accostarsi  35 

A'  primi  fossi  onde  la  terra  e  cinta. 

Allora  insieme  le  nemiche  trombe,  | 

E  le  Tebane  parimente  diero  I 

Orribil  segno  di  spietata  guerra. 

Cominciaro  gli  Argivi  a  dar  1'  assalto  4° 

Alia  Cittade,  e  i  nostri  dalle  mura 

Con  pietre,  dardi,  fuochi,  e  calci,  e  travi, 

Quanto  potevan,  gli  tenean  lontani. 

Con  tutto  cio,  dopo  molta  contesa; 

Onde  infiniti  ne  fur  morti  e  guasti:  45 

Gli  Argivi  s'  accostar  sotto  le  mura.  I 

Di  lor  fu  allora  un  Capitan  superbo, 

Chiamato  Capaneo,  primo  a  salire; 

Dietro  del  qual  salir  molt'  altri  ancora. 

Cosi  quel  sette  Capitani  eletti;  5° 


Scene  I.]  3flOCa0ta  3^9 

Against  the  footemen  of  their  enimies, 

But  fiercely  straight  the  armies  did  approche, 

Swarming    so    thicke     as     coverde    cleane    the 

fielde,  40 

When    dreadfull    blast     of    braying     trumpets 

sounde, 
Of   dolefull    drummes,  and  thundring   cannon 

shot 
Gave  hideous  signe  of  horrour  of  the  fight. 
Then    gan    the    Greekes   to   give  their   sharpe 

assaulte, 
Then  from  the  walls  our  stout  couragious  men  45 
With    rolling    stones,    with     paisse    of    hugie 

beames, 
With  flying  dartes,  with  flakes  of  burning  fire, 
And  deadly  blowes  did  beate  them  backe  againe. 
Thus    striving    long    with    stout    and     bloudie 

fighte 
(Whereby    full     many    thousande    slaughtered 

were),  5° 

The  hardie  Greeks  came  underneath  the  walls: 
Of  whome  first  Capaney  (a  lustie  knight) 
Did  scale  the  walls,  and  on  the  top  thereof 
Did  vaunt  himselfe,  when  manv  hundred  moe 
With  fierce  assaultes  did  follow  him  as  fast.  55 

Then  loe,  the  Captaines  seaven  bestirrde  them- 
selves 

43    of  horrour.    Hazlitt,  O  horrour! 
50   thousande.    MS.,  thousandes. 


320  ^iocas^ta  [act  iv. 

De'  quali  gia  n'  avete  inteso  il  nome; 

Chi  di  qua,  chi  di  la  gagliardamente 

Espugnavan  di  noi  le  sette  porte : 

E  Polinice  vostro  avea  drizzata 

Tutta  alia  maggior  porta  la  sua  schiera:  55^ 

Quando  discese  un  folgore  dal  Cielo 

Che  Capaneo,  quel  Capitan,  percosse, 

E  nel  fece  cader  morto  la,  dove 

A  chi  '1  vide  cader  gelossi  il  sangue. 

Quel  che  salir  volean  da  quella  parte 

Sossopra  traboccar  giu  per  le  scale. 

Allora,  riprendendo  ardir  e  forza 

I  nostri,  risospinsero  gli  Argivi. 

Quivi  v'  era  Eteocle,  et  io  con  lui; 

Che  rimesse  le  genti  alle  difese,  65, 

Accorse  all'  altre  porte,  e  a'  spaventati 

Porgeva  animo  e  forza,  et  agli  arditi 

Accresceva  il  valor  con  le  parole. 

Intanto,  avendo  il  Re  d'  Argivi  inteso 

Di  Capaneo  la  formidabil  morte, 

Parendo  a  lui  d'  aver  nimico  Giove, 

L'  esercito  ritrasse  oltra  la  fossa. 

Ma  r  incauto  Eteocle,  assecurato 

Nel  buono  Augurio,  spinse  fuor  di  Tebe 


Scene  I.]  3l0CaS?ta  3^1 

(Whose  names  ye  have  alreadie  understoode), 
Some  here,  some  there,  nought  dreading  losse 

of  Hfe, 
With  new  reliefe  to  feede  the  fainting  breach; 
And  Polynice,  he  bended  all  the  force  60 

Of  his  whole  charge  against  the  greatest  gate, 
When  sodenly  a  flashe  of  lightning  flame 
From  angrie  skies  strake  captaine  Capaney 
That    there    downe    dead    he     fell :     at    sight 

whereof 
The  gazers  on  were  fraught  with  soden  feare.      65 
The  rest,  that  strove  to  mount  the  walles  so 

fast. 
From  ladders  toppe  did  headlong  tumble  downe. 
Herewith  our  men,  encouragde  by  good  happe, 
Toke  hardy  harts,  and  so  repulst  the  Grekes. 
Ther  was  Eteocles,  and  I  with  him,  70 

Who  setting  first  those  souldiers  to  their  charge, 
Ranne    streight    to    thother    gates ;     unto    the 

weake 
He  manly  comforte  gave  :   unto  the  bold 
His  lusty  words  encreased  courage  still. 
In  so  much  as  th'amased  Grecian  king,  75 

When  he  did  heare  of  Capaney  his  death, 
Fearing  thereby  the  gods  became  his  foen. 
Out  from  the  trench  withdrewe  his  wearie  host. 
But  rashe  Eteocles  (presuming  too,  too  much 
Uppon  their  flight)  did  issue  out  of  Thebes,         80 


322  ^iocasfta  [act  iv. 

Immantlnente  la  cavalleria,  75 

Et  in  mezzo  a'  nemici  audace  diede. 

Lungo  fora  a  contar  quanti  di  loro 

Ne  fur  uccisi,  mal  menati,  e  spinti. 

Si  sentiva  per  tutto  alto  rumore 

Di  voci,  gridi,  gemiti,  e  lamenti :  80 

S'  orribile  giammai  si  disse  morte, 

Quivi,  Reina  fu,  quivi  mostrossi. 

Or  fino  a  questo  di  levata  abbiamo 

Di  prender  la  citta  la  speme  ai  Greci: 

Ma  che  dappoi  succeda  un  lieto  fine,  85 

Questo  io  non  so ;  che  n'  ha  la  cura  Giove. 

Ora  e  il  vincer  altrui  lodevol  cosa, 

Ma  molto  piu  fu  sempre  il  seguir  bene 

La  vittoria,  che  spesso  cangia  stile. 

Ma  di  questo  Reina,  anco  saremo  90 

Tutti  felici,  purche  piaccia  ai  Dei. 

Gio.  Buono  e  questo  successo,  e  veramente 
Qual  gia  per  me  non  si  sperava  molto ; 
Che  salva  e  la  Cittade,  e  i  miei  figliuoli 
(Siccome  mi  racconti)  ambi  son  vivi.  95 

Ma  segui  ancora  in  raccontarmi  quello 
Ch'  essi  tra  lor  nel  fine  hanno  disposto. 

Nun.  Non  cercate,  Reina,  intender  altro, 
Che  insino  a  qui  siete  felice  assai. 


Scene  L]  ^OCU&tU  323 

And  forwarde  straight  with  strength  of  chivalrie 
His  flying  foes  couragiously  parsude. 
Too  long  it  were  to  make  recompt  of  all 
That  wounded  bene,  or  slaine,  or  captive  now  : 
The  cloudy  ayre  was  filled  round  aboute  85 

With  houling  cries   and  wofull  wayling  plaints. 
So  great  a  slaughter  (O  renowmed  Queene) 
Before  this  day  I  thinke  was  never  scene. 
Thus  have  we  now  cut  of  the  fruitlesse  hope 
The  Grecians  had  to  sacke  this  noble  towne.       90 
What  jovfull  end  will  happen  hereunto 
Yet  know  I  not :   the  gods  tourne  all  to  good  ! 
"  To  conquere,  lo,  is  doubtlesse  worthy  praise, 
But  wisely  for  to  use  the  conquest  gotte, 
Hath  ever  wonne  immortall  sound  of  fame."        95 
Well,  yet  therewhile  in  this  we  may  rejoyce, 
Sith   heaven   and  heavenly  powers  are  pleasde 
therewith. 

Joe.  This  good  successe  was  luckie,  sure,  and 
such 
As,  for  my  parte,  I  little  loked  for : 
To  save  the  towne  and  eke  to  have  my  sonnes  100 
(As  you  report)  preserved  yet  alive. 
But  yet  proceede,  and  further  let  me  know 
The  finall  ende  that  they  agreed  upon. 

Nun.  No  more  (O  Queene) :  let  this  for  now 
suffise  ; 
Sith  hitherto  your  state  is  safe  inough.  105 


324  €>iOta0ta  [Act  IV. 

Gio.   Questo  tuo  dir  m'  ingombra  di  sospetto,  loo 
E  desio  di  saper  di  maggior  cosa. 

Nun.   Che  piii  intender  potete,  avendo  inteso 
Che  r  uno  e  V  altro  figlio  e  senza  ofFesa? 

Gio.  Vo'  saper  quel  che  resta,  o  bene,  o  male. 

Nun.   Lasciate  ch'  io  ritorni  ove  Eteocle  105 

Ha  gran  bisogno  dell'  officio  mio. 

Gio,  M'  avveggo  ben  che  mi  nascondi  il  peg- 
gio. 

Nun.  Non  fate  dopo  '1  ben  racconti  il  male. 

Gio.   Di,  se  cader  non  vuoi  nell'  ira  mia. 

Nun.   Poiche  volete  udir  novella  trista,  no 

Io  non  la  tacero.    Sappiate  come 
I  vostri  figli  hanno  conchiuso  insieme 
Di  cosa  far,  ch'  e  scellerata  e  ria: 
Si  son  sfidati  a  singolar  battaglia; 
Onde  forza  e  ch'  un  viva,  e  1'  altro  pera,  115 

O  che  forse  periscano  ambedue. 

Gio.  Ahi,  che    sempre    io  temei  d'  intender 
questo. 

Nun.  Poich'  in  somma  v'  ho  detto  quel 
ch'  udito 

116    0  .    .    .   ambedue.    Not  in  O. 


Scene  I]  31OCa0ta  325 

Joe.  These   words  of  thine  do  whelme   my 
jealous  mind 
With  great  suspecte  of  other  mischiefes  hidde. 
Nun.   What  would   you   more,  alredy   being 
sure 
That  both  your  sonnes  in  safetie  do  remaine  ? 
Joe.   I  long  to  know  the  rest,  or  good  or  bad.  no 
Nun.   O  let  me  now  retourne  to  Eteocles, 
That  of  my  service  greatly  stands  in  neede. 
Joe.   Right  well  I  see,  thou  doest  conceale  the 

woorst. 
Nun.   Oh,  force  me  not,  the  good  now  beeing 
past. 
To  tell  the  yll.  115 

Joe.  Tell  it,  I  say,  on  paine  of  our  displeas- 
ure. 
Nun.  Since  thus  ye  seeke  to  heare  a  dolefuli 
tale, 
I  will  no  longer  stay  :   witte  ye,  therefore. 
Your  desperate  sonnes  togither  be  agreed 
For  to  attempt  a  wicked  enterprise;  120 

To  private  fight  they  have  betroutht  themselves, 
Of  which  conflicte   the   ende   must    needes   be 

this. 
That  one  do  live,  that  other  die  the  death. 
Joe.  Alas,  alas,  this  did  I  ever  feare. 
Nun.  Now,  sith  in   summe  I   have  revealed 
that,  125 

106   do.    MS.,  doth.  108  pu.    MS.  and  Qi,  ye. 


326  ^iocas^ta  [act  iv. 

Voi  non  potete  aver  senza  cordoglio, 

Or  seguiro  partitamente  il  tutto.  120 

Poiche  '1  vittorioso  vostro  figlio 

I  nimici  caccio  fin  dei  ripari, 

Fermossi :  indi  gridar  fece  a  un  trombetta : 

Principi  Argivi,  che  venuti  sete 

Per  dipredar  i  nostri  dolci  campi,  125 

E  noi  scacciar  fuor  della  patria  nostra, 

Non  vogliate  che  tante  anime,  e  tante 

In  questa  guerra  scendano  all'  Inferno 

Sol  per  cagion  dell'  empio  Polinice: 

Ma  consentite  che  ambi  in  questo  giorno  130 

Da  solo  a  solo  combattendo  insieme 

La  grave  question  nata  fra  loro, 

Vi  si  tolga  di  mano  ogni  fatica: 

Et  acciocche  ciascun  di  voi  conosca 

L'  utile  e  '1  ben  che  ve  ne  puo  seguire  135 

II  mio  Signor  vi  fa  questo  partito: 

Vuol  che,  s'  avvien  che  nella  pugna  cada, 

La  Citta  sia  in  poter  di  Polinice : 

Ma  s'  avverra,  come  e  ragion  ch'  avvegna, 

Che  '1  giusto  Signor  nostro  uccida  lui,  140 

Altro  da  voi  piu  non  ricerca,  o  chiede, 

Se  non  che  voi  vi  ritorniate  in  Argo. 

Appena  di  gridar  queste  parole 

122  dei,     O,  nei. 


Scene  I]  ^lOCa^tH  3^7 

Which  you   have   heard  with  great   remorse  of 

mind, 
I  will  proceede  at  large  to  tell  the  whole. 
When  your  victorious  sonne  with  valiant  force 
Had  chast  his  foes  into  their  joyning  tents, 
Even   there  he  staide,  and   straight  at  sound  of 

trumpe  130 

With    stretched    voice    the    herault    thus    pro- 

claimde  : 
"  You  princely  Greekes,  that  hither  be  arrived 
To  spoile  the  fruite  of  these  our  fertile  fields, 
And  us  to  drive  from  this  our  native  soile, 
O  suffer  not  so  many  giltlesse  soules  135 

By  this  debate  descend  in  Stygian  lake 
For  private  cause  of  wicked  Polynice ; 
But  rather  let  the  brethren,  hand  to  hand. 
By  mutuall  blowes  appease  their  furious  rage, 
And  so  to  cease  from  sheding  further  bloud.        140 
And  to  the  end  you  all  might  understand 
The  profite  that  to  every  side  may  fall. 
Thus  much  my  lord  thought  good  to  profer  you. 
This  is  his  will,  if  he  be  overcome. 
Then  Polynice  to  rule  this  kingly  realme ;  145 

If  so  it  happe  (as  reason  would  it  should) 
Our  rightfull  prince  to  conquere  Polvnice, 
That  then  no  one  of  you  make  more  adoo, 
But  straight  to  Argos  ile  hast  home  againe." 
This  thus  pronounst  unto  the  noble  Greeks,       150 


328  6iocafifta  [act  iv, 

II  Trombetta  fini,  che  Polinice 

Si  fece  inmanzi  alle  Tebane  squadre;  145 

E  a'  detti  di  colui  cosi  rispose  : 

Non  fratel,  ma  nemico  del  mio  sangue; 

II  partito  che  fai  mi  piace  tanto, 

Che  senza  difFerir  si  bella  impresa, 

Ecco  ch'  armato  io  mi  dimostro  al  campo.  15° 

Si  mosse  il  nostro  Re  con  la  prestezza 

Che  suol  Falcon,  che  visto  abbia  la  preda ; 

L'  uno  e  r  altro  era  armato,  e  cinta  avea 

La  spada  al  fianco ;  onde  fur  date  ad  ambi 

Due  grosse  lancie.    Ad  Eteocle  fero  155 

I  nostri  cerchio ;  e  gli  dicean  ch'  avesse 

Nella  memoria  come  combatteva 

Per  conservar  la  patria,  e  ch'  in  lui  solo 

Era  di  tutti  la  salute  posta. 

A  Polinice  il  Re  disse  che  essendo  160 

Ei  vincitor  come  sperava,  in  segno 

Delia  vittoria,  egli  votava  a  Giove 

Di  alzar  in  Argo  una  gran  statua  d'  oro. 

Ma  voi  cercate  d'  impedir  la  pugna, 

Reina,  pria  che  piii  ne  segua  avanti  :  165 


Scene  I]  3l0CaS?Ca  329 

No  soner  did  the  sound  of  trumpet  cease, 

But  Polynice  stept  forth  before  the  host, 

And  to  these  words  this  answere  did  he  make  : 

"  O  thou,  not  brother,  but  my  mortall  foe. 

Thy  profer  here  hath  pleased  me  so  well  155 

As  presently,  without  more  long  delay, 

I  yeld  myselfe  prepared  to  the  field." 

Our  noble  king  no  soner  heard  this  vaunt, 

But  forth  as  fast  he  prest  his  princely  steppes 

With  eger  mind,  as  hoovering  falcon  woonts      160 

To    make   hir   stoope,  when    pray   appeares   in 

sight. 
At  all  assayes  they  both  were  bravely  armed, 
To  cithers  side  his  sword  fast  being  girt ; 
In  cithers  hand  was  put  a  sturdy  launce. 
About  Eteocles  our  souldiers  cloong  165 

To  comforte  him,  and  put  him  then  in  mind 
He  fought  for  safetie  of  his  country  soile, 
And  that  in  him  consisted  all  their  hope. 
To  Polynice  the  king  Adrastus  swore, 
If  he  escaped  victor  from  the  fielde,  170 

At  his  returne  he  would  in  Greece  erecte 
A  golden  image  unto  mightie  Jove 
In  signe  of  his  triumphing  victorie. 
But  all  this  while  seeke  you,  O  noble  Queene, 
To  hinder  this  your  furious  sonnes  attempte  :     175 
Intreat  the  gods  it  may  not  take  efFecte, 


330  ^iocasfta  [act  iv. 

Altramente  sarete  in  questo  giorno 

O  d'  uno  almeno,  o  d'  ambi  i  figli  priva. 

[SCENA    2.] 

Giocastay  Antigone. 

Giocasta.  Antigone,  figliuola,  esci  di  fuora 
Di  questa  casa  di  mestizia  e  pianto  : 
Esci,  non  per  cagion  di  canti  o  balli ; 
Ma  per  vietar,  se  puoi,  che  i  tuoi  fratelli 
Oggi  con  r  empie  man  miseramente  5 

Non  si  traggan  del  corpo  il  sangue  e  1'  alma, 
E'  nsieme  con  la  madre  escan  di  vita. 

Antigone.   Madre,  mia  cara  madre, 
Oime,  perche,  formate 

Con  lacrimosi  accenti  10 

Queste  voci  dolenti  ? 
Che  vi  molesta,  oime  ?  che  vi  molesta  ? 

G'lo.  Figliuola,  i  tuoi  fratelli, 
Sangue  del  sangue  mio  : 

Se  non  lo  toglie  Dio,  15 

Oggi  saranno  spenti. 


Scene  II.]  3!OCa0ta  331 

Els  must  you  needes  ere  long  deprived  be 
Of  both  your  sonnes,  or  of  the  one  at  least. 

Nuncius  returneth  to  the  camp  by  the  gates 
Homoloydes, 


[SCENA  2.] 

Jocasta,  Antigone. 

[Jocasta.']     Antigone,    my    swete    daughter, 
come  forth 
Out  of  this   house,  that    nought   but   woe  re- 

taines  : 
Come  forth,  I  sav,  not  for  to  sing  or  daunce. 
But  to  prevent,  if  in  our  powers  it  lie. 
That  thy  malicious  brethren,  swolne  with  ire. 
And  I,  alas  !  their  miserable  mother. 
Be  not  destroide  by  stroke  of  dreadfull  death. 

Antigone  commeth  out  of  hir  mother*  s  Pal- 
lace. 
Antigone.   Ah,  swete  mother  !   ah,  my  beloved 
mother  ! 
Alas,  alas  !   what  cause  doth  move  ye  now 
From    trembling   voice    to    send    such  carefull 

cries  ? 
What  painefull  pang,  what  griefe  doth  gripe  you 
now? 

178  at  least.     MS.  adds,  Nuntius  exit.  ll   you.    MS.,  ye. 


332  ^iocasita  [act  iv. 

Ant,  Oime,  che  dite,  oime,  che  cosa  dite? 
Oime,  potro  sofFrir  di  veder  morto 
Quel  che  tanto  bramai  di  veder  vivo  ? 

Gio.  Ambi  sfidati  sono  20 

(Oime,  ch'  io  tremo  a  dirlo) 
A  scellerata  guerra. 

Jnt.   Eteocle  crudele  : 
O  crudele  Eteocle, 

Tu  solo  sei  cagione  25 

Di  questa  crudeltade  ; 
Non  Polinice  mio, 
Che  tu  si  crudelmente 
Hai  della  patria  privo, 
Et  or  cerchi  (ahi  crudel)  privar  di  vita.  30 

Gio.  Non  pi{i  si  tardi,  o  figlia,  andiamo,  an- 
diamo. 

Jnt.   Dove  volete  voi, 
Madre,  ch'  io  ven^a  ? 


venga 


Gio.  Voglio, 

Figlia,  che  venghi  meco 
Air  esercito  Greco.  35 

Jnt.  Ah,  che  venir  non  posso 
Senza  vergogna,  e  tema, 
Se  non  della  mia  vita, 
Almeno  del  mio  onore. 

Gio.  Non  e  tempo,  o  figliuola,  40 

Di  riguardar  a  onore ; 
Ma  ben  di  procurar,  se  noi  potiamo, 


11 


Scene  H]  JlOCaSfta  333 

Joe.   O,  deare  daughter,  thy  most  unhappie 
brethren, 
That  sometimes  lodgde  within  these  wretched 

loynes. 
Shall  die  this  day,  if  Jove  prevent  it  not. 

Ant.   Alas  !   what  say  you  ?  alas,  what  do  you 
say  ?  15 

Can  I,  alas  !  endure  to  see  him  dead. 
Whom  I  thus  long  have  sought  to  see  alive  ? 
Joe.  They  both  have  vowde  (I  quake,  alas  ! 
to  tell) 
With  trenchant  blade  to  spill  eche  others  blood. 

Ant.   O  cruell  Eteocles  !  ah,  ruthlesse  wretch  !   *© 
Of  this  outrage  thou  only  art  the  cause. 
Not  Polynice,  whom  thou  with  hatefuU  spight 
Hast  reaved  first  of  crowne  and  countrie  soyle, 
And  now  doest  seeke  to  reave  him  of  his  life. 
Joe.   Daughter,  no  more  delay  :   lets  go,  lets 

go.  25 

Ant.   Ah,  my    sweete  mother,  whither  shall 

I  go? 
Joe.   With  me,  deere  daughter,  to  the  Greek- 

ish  host. 
Ant.   Alas,  how  can  I  go,  unles  I  go 
In  daunger  of  my  life,  or  of  good  name  ? 

Joe.  Time  serves  not  now,  my  well-beloved 
childe,  30 

20  Ant.    Qi  omits 


334  ^iorasfta  [activ. 

Impedir  che  non  segua 

Quel  che,  a  pensarlo  solo, 

Mi  trae  1'  alma  del  petto.  45 

Jnt.  Andiamo,  andiamo,  o  madre. 
Ma  che  potremo  noi, 
Voi  debol  vecchia,  et  io 
Impotente  fanciulla  ? 

Gio.  Faranno  le  parole,  5° 

I  preghi,  e  'nsieme  i  pianti 
Quel  che  non  puo  ragione, 
Ne  autorita,  ne  forza. 
E  quando  fian  tutti  i  rimedi  vani, 
Io  mi  porro  tra  loro,  55 

E  saro  col  mio  petto 
Air  uno  e  1'  altro  scudo, 
Tal  che  aprano  le  mie,  non  le  lor  carni. 
M'  affrettati,  figliuola ; 

Che,  s'  arriviamo  a  tempo,  60 

Restera  forse  in  piede 
Questa  mia  stanca  vita  ; 
Se  tardi,  io  t'  assecuro 
Che  con  i  miei  figliuoli 

Oggi  sara  fornita  ;  65 

E  tu,  figlia  dolente, 


Scene  H]  JOCaSfta  335 

To  way  the  losse  of  life  or  honest  name, 
But  rather  to  prevent,  if  so  we  rnay. 
That  wicked  deede,  which  only  but  to  thinke 
Doth  hale  my  hart  out  of  my  heavie  brest. 
Ant,   Come  then,  lets  go,  good  mother,  let  us 

go;  35 

But  what  shall  we  be  able  for  to  doe  — 
You     a    weake     old     woman     forworne    with 

yeares 
And  I,  God  knows,  a  silly  simple  mayde  ? 
"Joe.   Our  wofull  wordes,  our  prayers  and  our 

plaintes, 
Pourde  out  with  streames  of  overflowing  teares,  40 
Where  nature  rules,  may  happen  to  prevayle. 
When   reason,  power   and    force   of  armes   do 

fayle. 
But  if  the  glowing  heate  of  boyling  wrath 
So  furious  be,  as  it  may  not  relent. 
Then  I  atwixt  them  both  will  throw  my  selfe,     45 
And  this  my  brest  shall  beare  the  deadly  blowes. 
That  otherwise  should  light  upon  my  sonnes  : 
So   shall   they    shead   my  bloud    and    not   their 

owne. 
Well  now,  deere  daughter,  let  us  hasten  hence. 
For  if  in  time  we  stay  this  raging  strife,  5° 

Then  haply  may  my  life  prolonged  be. 
If,  ere  we  come,  the  bloudy  deede  be  done. 
Then  must  my  ghost  forsake  this  feeble  corps, 


336  ^ioca0ta  [act  iv. 

Questo  di  piangerai 
La  madre,  et  i  fratelli  ; 

CORO. 

Chi  provato  ha  giammai 

Quanto  e  possente  e  caldo 

L'  amor  ch'  a'  propri  figli 

Porta  pietosa  madre  ? 

Costei,  non  altra,  puote  5 

Comprender  quanto  sia 

Infinito  il  dolore 

Ch'  ora  trafigge  il  core 

Delia  Reina  nostra. 

Oime,  ch'  a  tal  martire  10 

Non  e  martir  eguale. 

lo  tremo  tutta,  io  tremo 

Di  paura  e  d'  orrore, 

Pensando  al  fiero  e  miserabil  case. 

Oime,  che  due  fratelli,  15 

Che  sono  un  sangue  istesso, 

Corrano  all'  arme,  e  P  uno  e  P  altro  cerchi 

Di  sparger  il  suo  sangue  !   Ah,  cruda  Stella, 

Ah,  troppo  acerba  e  fella  :   Ah,  reo  destine, 

Non  consentir  che  avvenga  20 

Tanta  scelleritade  : 


Chorus]  31OCa0ta  337 

And  thou,  deare  childe,  with  dolour  shalt  be- 

waile 
Thy  brothers  death  and  mothers  all  at  once.         55 

Jocasta  with  Antigone  and  all hir  traine  {^ex- 
cepte  the  Chorus)  goeth  towards  the  campe 
by  the  gates  Homoloydes. 

Chorus. 

Whoso  hath  felt  what  faith  and  ferv^ent  love 

A  mother  beares  unto  hir  tender  sonnes, 

She  and  none  other  sure  can  comprehende 

The  dolefull  griefe,  the  pangs  and  secret  paine, 

That  presently  doth  pierce  the  princely  brest  5 

Of  our  afflicted  Queene  :  alas  !  I  thinke 

No  martyrdome  might  well  compare  with  hirs. 

So  ofte  as  I  recorde  hir  restlesse  state, 

Alas  !  me  thinkes  I  feele  a  shivering  feare 

Flit  to  and  fro  along  my  flushing  vaines.  10 

Alas  for  ruth,  that  thus  two  brethren  shoulde 

Enforce  themselves  to  shed  each  others  bloud. 

Where  are  the  lawes  of  nature  nowe  become  ? 

Can  fleshe  of  fleshe,  alas  !  can  bloud  of  bloud 

So  far  forget  it  selfe,  as  slay  it  selfe  ?  15 

O  lowring  starres,  O  dimme  and  angrie  skies, 

O  geltie  fate,  suche  mischiefe  set  aside. 

I    hath  felt.    MS.,  hath  ever  felt.      faith  and^  omitted  in  MS. 
and  Q  i . 

7  might.    MS.,   may.  17  geltie.    MS.,  Qi,  Q3,  gilty. 


338  €^ioca0ta  [activ. 

E  s'  ella  avvien,  come  potro,  infelice, 

Pianger  T  afFanno  e  '1  duolo 

Delia  pia  genitrice  ? 

Anzi  la  propria  morte ;  25 

La  miserabil  morte 

De'  figliuoli,  e  di  lei  ? 

E  con  la  morte  la  ruina  espressa 

Delia  casa  d'  Edipo  ? 

Ma  ecco  a  noi  Creonte  30 

Tutto  pien  di  tristezza, 

Se  r  interno  del  cor  dimostra  il  volte 

E  tempo  ch'  io  finisca 

Questi  giusti  lamenti. 

[ScENA  3.] 

Creonte y  Nuncio. 

Creonte.   Quantunque  abbia  commesso  a  mio 
figliuolo, 
Che  si  parta  di  Tebe  per  salvarsi, 
E  si  gran  pezzo  e  che  da  me  si  tolse  ; 
Nondimeno  io  non  sto  senza  paura 
Che,  air  uscir  delle  porte,  alcun  non  gli  abbia        5 
Impedito  '1  cammino,  sospettando 
Di  qualche  tradimento  ;   e  in  questo  mezzo 
L'  Indovin,  pubblicando  il  suo  secreto, 
L'  abbia  fatto  cader  a  quella  morte 
Che  cercai  forsi  di  schifarli  indarno. 


Scene  IH]  3l0CaS?ta  339 

But  if  supernall  powers  decreed  have 
That  death  must  be  the  ende  of  this  debate, 
Alas !  what  floudes  of  teares  shall  then  suffise 
To    weepe    and    waile    the    neere    approching 

death  — 
I  meane  the  death  of  sonnes  and  mother  both, 
And  with  their  death  the  ruine  and  decay 
Of  Oedipus  and  his  princely  race! 
But  loe,  here  Creon  commes  with  carefull  cheare; 
Tis  time  that  now  I  ende  my  just  complaint. 

Creon  commeth  in  by  the  gates  Homoloydes. 

[SCENA  3.] 

Creon,  Nuncius. 

\_Creon.~\    Although  I  straightly  charg  [d]  e  my 
tender  childe 
To  flee  from  Thebes  for  safegarde  of  him  selfe, 
And  that  long  since  he  parted  from  my  sight, 
Yet  doe  I  greatly  hang  in  lingring  doubt 
Least,  passing  through  the  gates,  the  privie  watch 
Hath  stayed  him  by  some  suspect  of  treason. 
And  so  therewhile  the  prophets  having  skride 
His  hidden  fate,  he  purchast  have  the  death 
Which    I    by    all    meanes    sought    he    might 
eschewe  ; 

1  chargde.    MS.,  chardgde.    Qi,   chargde.    Q2,  Q3,   charge. 

2  flee.    MS.,  Qi,  flie. 


340 


€^ioca0ta  [act  iv. 


E  tanto  io  temo  piu  di  questo  fine, 

Quanto  poc'  anzi  la  vittoria  ho  intesa 

Ottenuta  da  noi  nel  primo  assalto. 

Ma  r  uom  prudente  con  pazienza  deve 

Sostener  ogni  colpo  di  Fortuna.  15 

Nuncio.   Oime,  chi  fia  colui  che  mi  dimostri 
Ov'  e  il  fratel  della  Reina  nostra  ? 
Ma  ecco,  ch'  egli  e  qui  tutto  sospeso. 

Ore.  Se  '1  cuor  del  proprio  mal   fu  mai  pre- 
sage, 
Certo  costui,  che  di  me  cerca,  apporta  20 

(Misero  me)  del  mio  figliuol  la  morte. 

Nun.  Signor,  quel  che  temete  appunto  e  il 
vero, 
Che  '1  vostro  Meneceo  non  e  piu  in  vita. 

Cre.  Ahi,  che  non  si  puo  gir  contra  le  stelle  : 
Ma  non  conven  a  me,  ne  agli  anni  miei  as 

Sparger  per  gran  dolor  stilla  di  pianto. 
Contami  tu  com'  egli  e  morto,  e  quale 
La  forma  e  stata  di  sua  morte,  ch'  io 
Ti  prometto  ascoltar  con  gli  occhi  asciutti  : 

Nun.  Sappiate,    Signor    mio,    che  '1    vostro 
figlio  30 

Venne  innanzi  a  Eteocle,  e  disse  a  lui 
Con  alta  voce,  che  ciascuno  intese : 
Re,  la  vittoria  nostra,  e  la  salute 


Scene  m.]  3IOCa0ta  341 

And  this  mischaunce  so  much  I  feare  the  more,  lo 
How  much  the  wished  conquest  at  the  first 
Fell  happily  unto  the  towne  of  Thebes. 
"  But  wise  men  ought  with  patience  to  sustaine 
The  sundrie  haps  that  slipperie  fortune  frames." 
Nuncius  commeth  in  by  the  gates  Electrce. 
Nuncius.  Alas,    who    can    direct    my    hastie 

steppes  15 

Unto  the  brother  of  our  wofull  Queene  ? 
But  loe  !  where  carefully  he  standeth  here  ! 
Cre.  If  so  the   minde    may   dread   his   owne 
mishap, 
Then  dread    I  much,   this  man  that    seekes  me 

thus 
Hath  brought  the  death  of  my  beloved  sonne.      20 
Nun.   My  lorde,  the    thing  you   feare  is  very 
true. 
Your  Sonne  Meneceus  no  longer  lives. 

Cre.  Alas,  who  can   withstand  the  heavenly 
powers  ? 
Well,  it  beseemes  not  me,  ne  yet  my  yeares 
In  bootelesse  plaint  to  wast  my  wailefuU  teares  ;   25 
Do  thou  recount  to  me  his  lucklesse  deathe. 
The  order,  forme  and  manner  of  the  same. 
Nun.  Your  sonne  (my  lorde)  came   to  Eteo- 
cles. 
And  tolde  him  this  in  presence  of  the  rest : 
"  Renoumed  king,  neither  your  victorie,  30 


342  iSiocasfta  [act  iv. 

Delia  Citta  non  e  riposta  in  arme, 

Ma  consiste,  Signer,  nella  mia  morte  :  35 

Cosi  ricerca,  anzi  comanda  Giove. 

Onde,  sapendo  il  beneficio  ch'  io 

Posso  far  alia  patria,  ben  sarei 

Di  si  degna  Cittade  ingrato  figlio, 

Se  al  maggior  uopo  io  ricusassi  usarlo.  40 

Qui  pria  vestei,  Signor,  la  mortal  gonna, 

E  qui  onesto  fia  ben  ch'  io  me  ne  spogli. 

Pero,  dappoiche  cosi  place  ai  Dei, 

Uccido  me,  perche  viviate  voi. 

Cortesi  Cittadin,  V  officio  vostro  45 

Sara  poi  d'  onorar  il  corpo  mio 

Di  qualche  sepoltura,  ove  si  legga  : 

Qui  Meneceo  per  la  sua  patria  giace  : 

Cosi  disse,  e  col  fin  delle  parole 

Trasse  il  pugnal,  e  se  1'  ascose  in  petto.  50] 

Cre.  Pill  non  seguir,  e  la  ritorna  donde 
Venuto  sei.    Poiche  '1  mio  sangue  deve 


scxNE  III]  Jlocasfta  343 

Ne  yet  the  safetie  of  this  princely  realme 

In  armour  doth  consist,  but  in  the  death 

Of  me,  of  me,  (O  most  victorious  king)  — 

So  heavenly  dome  of  mightie  Jove  commaunds. 

I  (knowing  what  avayle  my  death  should  yeeld     35 

Unto  your  grace  and  unto  native  land) 

Might  well  be  deemde  a  most  ungratefull  sonne 

Unto  this  worthy  towne,  if  I  would  shunne 

The  sharpest  death  to  do  my  countrie  good. 

In  mourning  weede  now  let  the  vestall  nimphes,  40 

With  [playnyng]  tunes  commend  my  faultlesse 

ghost 
To  highest  heavens,  while  I  despoyle  my  selfe, 
That  afterwarde  (sith  Jove  will  have  it  so) 
To  save  your  lives,  I  may  receyve  my  death. 
Of  you  I  crave,  O  curteous  citizens,  45 

To  shrine  my  corps  in  tombe  of  marble  stone. 
Whereon  grave  this  :   Meneceus  here  doth  lie^ 
For  countries  cause  that  was  content  to  die.^^ 
This  saide,  alas  !  he  made  no  more  adoe. 
But    drewe   his   sword,   and    sheathde   it   in   his 

brest.  50 

Cre.   No   more  :   I   have   inough ;   returne  ye 

nowe 
From  whence  ye  came. 

Nu?icius  returneth  by  the  gates  Electra, 
Well,  since  the  bloud  of  my  beloved  sonne 

36    Unto.    MS.,  to  my. 

41  playnyng.    So  in  MS.    Qi,  fauning.    Q2,  Q3,  faining. 


344  ^ioca^ta  [activ. 

Purgar  V  ira  di  Giove,  ed  esser  quello 

Che  solo  pace  alia  Cittade  apporti ; 

£  ben  anco  ragion  ch'  io  sia  signore  55 

Di  Tebe ;   e  ne  saro  forse  col  tempo 

Per  bontade,  o  per  forza.    Questo  e  il  nido 

Delle  scelerita.    La  mia  sorella 

Sposo  il  figliuol  che  prima  uccise  il  padre, 

E  di  tal  empio  abbominoso  seme  60 

Nacquero  i  due  fratei,  ch'  or  son  trascorsi 

Air  odio  si,  ch'  o  questo,  o  quel  iia  spento. 

Ma  perche  tocca  a  me  ?   perche  al  mio  sangue 

Portar  la  pena  degli  altrui  peccati  ? 

O  felice  quel  nuncio  che  mi  dica  :  65 

Creonte,  i  tuoi  nipoti  ambi  son  morti : 

Vedrassi  allor  che  differenza  sia 

Da  Signor  a  Signor ;   e  quanto  nuoce 

L'  aver  servito  a  giovane  alcun  tempo. 

Io  vo  di  qui,  per  far  ch'  al  mio  figliuolo  70 

S'  apparecchin  1'  esequie  ;  che  saranno 

54  pace.    O,  place. 


Scene  III.]  3IOCa0ta  345 

Must  serve  to  slake  the  wrath  of  angrie  Jove, 

And  since  his  onely  death  must  bring  to  Thebes   55 

A  quiet  ende  of  hir  unquiet  state, 

Me  thinkes  good  reason  would  that  I  henceforth 

Of  Thebane  soyle  should  beare  the  kingly  swaye  : 

Yea  sure,  and  so  I  will,  ere  it  be  long. 

Either  by  right  or  else  by  force  of  armes.  60 

Of  al  mishap  loe  here  the  wicked  broode  ! 

My  sister  first  espoused  hath  hir  sonne 

That  slewe  his  sire,  of  whose  accursed  seede 

Two    brethren    sprang,   whose   raging  hatefull 

hearts 
By  force  of  boyling  yre  are  bolne  so  sore,  65 

As  each  do  thyrst  to  sucke  the  others  bloude  : 
But  why  do  I  sustaine  the  smart  hereof? 
Why  should  my  bloud  be  spilt  for  others  gilte  ! 
Oh,  welcome  were  that  messenger  to        a„„^„.. 

■'  to  Any  messen- 

me  ger  is  wel- 

That   broup;ht    me  word  of  both  my       ^°™^  ^^^ 

?  J        ,  ^  bringeth 

nephewes  deathes  :  ^dings  of 

Then  should  it  soone  be  sene  in  every        advance- 
eye,  "'""^• 
Twixt  prince  and  prince  what  difference  would 

appeare. 
Then  should  experience  shewe  what  griefe  it  is 
To  serve  the  humours  of  unbridled  youth. 
Now  will  I  goe  for  to  prepare  with  speede  75 

The  funerals  of  my  yong  giltlesse  sonne. 


346  ^ioca0ta  [act  iv. 

Debitamente  accompagnate  forse 
Dair  esequie  del  corpo  d'  Eteocle. 


CORO. 

Alma  Concordia,  che,  prodotta  in  seno 

Del  gran  Dio  degli  Dei, 

Per  riposo  di  noi  scendesti  in  terra  ; 

Tu  sola  cagion  sei 

Che  si  governi  il  Ciel  con  giusto  freno,  "'$ 

E  che  non  sia  tra  gli  elementi  guerra. 

In  te  si  chiude,  e  serra 

Virtu  tanto  p'ossente, 

Che  quei  regge,  e  mantiene  : 

E  da  te  sola  viene  lo 

Tutto  quel  ben  che  fa  1'  umana  gente 

Gustar  quanto  e  giocondo 

Questo  che  da'  mortali  e  detto  mondo. 

Tu  pria  da  quel  confuso  antico  stato, 
Privo  d'  ogni  ornamento,  15 

Dividesti  la  Macchina  celeste  : 


Chorus.]  3|OCa0ta  347 

The  which  perhaps  may  be  accompanyed 
With  th'obsequies  of  proude  Eteocles. 

Cleo7i  goeth  out  by  the  gates  Homoloydes. 

Finis  Actus  4. 


Chorus. 

O  blisful  concord,  bredde  in  sacred  brest 
Of  him  that  guides  the  restlesse  rolling  sky, 
That  to  the  earth  for  mans  assured  rest 
From  heigth  of  heavens  vouchsafest  downe  to 

flie, 
In  thee  alone  the  mightie  power  doth  lie  5 

With  swete  accorde  to  kepe  the  frouning  starres 
And  every  planet  else  from  hurtfuU  warres. 

In  thee,  in  thee  such  noble  vertue  bydes, 

As  may  commaund  the  mightiest  gods  to  bend, 

From  thee  alone  such  sugred  frendship  slydes       lo 

As  m.ortall  wightes  can  scarcely  comprehend  : 

To  greatest  strife  thou  setst  delightfull  ende, 

O  holy  peace,  by  thee  are  onely  founde 

The  passing  joyes  that  every  where  abound. 

Thou,  onely  thou,  through  thy  celestiall  might,  15 
Didst  first  of  al  the  heavenly  pole  devide 


348  ^iocas^ta  [act  iv. 

Tu  facesti  contento 

Deir  influsso,  e  dell'  ordine  a  lui  dato 

Ogni  Pianeta :  e  per  te  quelle  e  queste, 

A  girar  cosi  preste,  20 

Stelle  vaghe  et  erranti 

Scoprono  agli  occhi  nostri 

I  lor  bei  lumi  santi : 

E  tosto  che  dal  mar  Febo  si  mostri, 

Per  te  lieto  et  adorno  25 

Risplende  il  Ciel  di  luminoso  giorno. 

Tu  sola  sei  cagion  ch'  a  Primavera 
Nascano  erbette  e  fiori, 
E  vada  estate  de'  suoi  frutti  carca. 
Tu  sola  a'  nostri  cori  30 

Spiri  fiamma  d'  amor  pura  e  sincera, 
Per  cui  non  e  la  stirpe  umana  parca 
(Mentre  a  morte  si  varca) 
Di  propagar  sua  prole ; 

Tal  ch'  ogni  spezie  sempre  35 

Con  dolci  amiche  tempre 
Si  perpetua  quaggiu  fin  che  '1  Ciel  vuole  : 
Onde  la  terra  e  poi 
D'  uomini,  e  d'  animai  ricca  fra  noi. 

Per  te  le  cose  umil  s'  ergono  al  Cielo,  40J 

E  ovunque  il  pie  si  move, 
Pace  tranquilla  i  cuor  soave  e  cara : 


Chorus.]  31OCa0ta  349 

From  th'olde  confused  heape  that  Chaos  hight 
Thou  madste  the  sunne,  the  moone,  and  starres 

to  glide 
With  ordred  course  about  this  world  so  wide; 
Thou  hast  ordainde  Dan  Tytans  shining  light      20 
By  dawne  of  day  to  chase  the  darkesome  night. 

When  tract  of  time  returnes  the  lustie  Ver, 
By  thee  alone  the  buddes  and  blossomes  spring, 
The    iieldes    with    floures    be    garnisht    every 

where, 
The  blooming  trees  aboundant  fruite  do  bring,     25 
The  cherefull  birds  melodiously  do  sing. 
Thou  dost  appoint  the  crop  of  sommers  seede 
For  mans  reliefe  to  serve  the  winters  neede. 

Thou    doest    inspire    the    heartes    of    princely 

peeres 
By  providence  proceeding  from  above,  30 

In  flowring  youth  to  choose  their  worthie  feeres, 
With  whome  they  live  in  league  of  lasting  love. 
Till  fearefuU  death  doth  flitting  life  remove, 
And  loke,  how  fast  to  death  man  payes  his  due. 
So  fast  againe  doste  thou  his  stocke  renue.  35 

By  thee  the  basest  thing  advaunced  is. 
Thou    every    where    dost    grafFe    such    golden 
peace 


350  €>iocasfta  [activ. 

Per  te  di  glole  nove 

Sempre  1'  uomo  e  ripieno  al  caldo  e  al  gelo, 

Ne  lo  turba  giammai  novella  amara.  45 

Per  te  sola  s'  impara 

Vita  senza  martire  : 

E  per  te  al  fin  si  regge 

Con  ferma  e  salda  legge 

Qui  ciascun  Regno :   e  non  puo  mai  perire  50 

Mortal  Dominio,  se  '1  tuo  braccio  eterno, 

Madre  di  tutti  i  ben,  tiene  il  governo. 

Ma  senza  te  la  legge  di  natura 
Si  solverebbe;  e  senza 

Te  le  maggior  Citta  vanno  a  ruina.  55 

Senza  la  tua  presenza 
La  madre  col  figliuol  non  e  secura, 
E  zoppa  la  ragion,  debole,  e  china. 
Senza  di  te  meschina 

E  nostra  vita  ogn'  ora ;  60 

E,  s'  io  dritto  discerno, 
II  mondo  oscuro  inferno 
D'  ogni  miseria :   e  sasselo  oggimai 
Questa  nostra  Citta  piti  ch'  altra  mai. 

Gia  mi  par  di  sentir  lagrime  e  pianti  65 

Risonar  d'  ogni  'ntorno, 
E  le  voci  salir  sino  alle  stelle : 
Veggio  il  caro  soggiorno 
Quinci  e  quindi  lasciar  meste  e  tremanti, 
E  per  tutto  gridar  donne  e  donzelle.  70 


Chorus.]  31OCa0ta  351 


As  iilleth  man  with  more  than  earthly  blisse  ; 
The   earth    by   thee   doth  yelde   hir   swete   in- 
crease ; 
At  becke  of  thee  all  bloudy  discords  cease,  40 

And  mightiest  realmes  in  quiet  do  remaine, 
Wheras  thy  hand  doth  holde  the  royall  [reine.] 

But  if  thou  faile,  then  al  things  gone  to  wracke  ; 
The  mother  then  doth  dread  hir  naturall  childe, 
Then  every  towne  is  subject  to  the  sacke,  45 

Then  spotlesse  maids,  then  virgins  be  deiilde, 
Then  rigor  rules,  then  reason  is  exilde  : 
And    this,   thou   woful    Thebes,   to   our    great 

paine. 
With  present  spoile  art  likely  to  sustaine. 

Me  thinke[s]  I  heare  the  wailfull  weeping  cries  50 
Of  wretched  dames  in  everie  coast  resound  : 
Me  thinkes  I  see,  how  up  to  heavenly  skies 
From  battred   walls   the   thundring  clappes  re- 
bound : 
Me  thinke  [s]    I  heare,   how  all  things   go   to 

ground  ; 
Me  thinke  [s]  I  see,  how  souldiers  wounded  lye  55 
With  gasping  breath,  and  yet  they  can  not  dye. 

42  reine.    MS.,  raigne.    Qz,  raine. 

46  then.    Q3,  the. 

50,  54,  55  Me  thinkes,     Qq,  Me  thinke.      MS.,  Me  thinks. 


352 


^ioca0ta 


[Act  IV. 


Gia  le  nuove  empie  e  felle 
Mi  sembra  udir,  ond'  io 
Chiamo  felice  sorte 
Quella  ch'  a  darsi  morte 
Condusse  Meneceo,  benigno  e  pio 
Verso  la  patria :  e  voglia  Dio  che  sia 
Salva  col  suo  morir  la  Citta  mia. 

Santo,  cortese  Padre, 
A  te  mi  volgo,  e  sprezzo  ogn'  altra  aita: 
Soccorri  alia  Citta,  che  solo  puoi. 
Fa  che  V  error  d'  altrui  non  nuoccia  a  noi. 


75 


80 


Chorus.]  3iOCa0ta  353 

By  meanes  wherof,  oh  swete  Meneceus,  he 
That   gives    for   countries   cause   his   guiltlesse 

life, 
Of  others  all  most  happy  shall  he  be  : 
His  ghost  shall  flit  from  broiles  of  bloudy  strife  60 
To    heavenly   blisse,   where    pleasing  joyes  be 

rife  : 
And  would  to  God,  that  this  his  fatall  ende 
From  further  plagues  our  citie  might  defend. 

O  sacred  God,  give  eare  unto  thy  thrall. 

That  humbly  here  upon  thy  name  doth  call,         65 

O  let  not  now  our  faultlesse  bloud  be  spilt 

For  hote  revenge  of  any  others  gilt. 


Fims  Actus  quarti. 
Done  by   F.  Kinwelmarshe, 


The    order    of   the    laste 
dumbe    shewe 

First  the  stillpipes  sounded  a  very  mournful 
melody,  in  which  time  came  upon  the  stage  a 
woman  clothed  in  a  white  garment,  on  hir  head 
a  piller,  double  faced,  the  formost  face  fair  and 
smiling,  the  other  behinde  blacke  and  louring, 
muffled  with  a  white  laune  about  hir  eyes,  hir 
lap  ful  of  jewelles,  sitting  in  a  charyot,  hir  legges 
naked,  hir  fete  set  upon  a  great  round  bal,  and 
beyng  drawen  in  by  iiii  noble  personages :  she 
led  in  a  string  on  hir  right  hand,  ii  kings  crowned, 
and  in  hir  lefte  hand  ii  poore  slaves  very  meanly 
attyred.  After  she  was  drawen  about  the  stage, 
she  stayed  a  litle,  changing  the  kings  unto  the 
left  hande  and  the  slaves  unto  the  right  hand ; 
taking  the  crownes  from  the  kings  heads  she 
crowned  therwith  the  ii  slaves,  and  casting  the 
vyle  clothes  of  the  slaves  upon  the  kings,  she 
despoyled  the  kings  of  their  robes,  and  therwith 
apparelled  the  slaves.  This  done,  she  was 
drawen  eftsones  about  the  stage  in  this  order, 
and  then  departed,  leaving  unto  us  a  plaine  type 

3  ""•    Q3>  ^^'^  0"* 


tir^e  ortjer  of  t\)t  hm  tiuntbe  gljetoe    355 

or  figure  of  unstable  fortune,  who  dothe  often- 
times raise  to  heigthe  of  dignitie  the  vile  and 
unnoble,  and  in  like  manner  throweth  downe 
from  the  place  of  promotion  even  those  whom  25 
before  she  hir  selfe  had  thither  advaunced  :  after 
hir  departure  came  in  Duke  Creon  with  foure 
gentlemen  wayting  upon  him,  and  lamented  the 
death  of  Meneceus  his  sonne  in  this  maner. 


Atto   Quinto. 

[SCENA    I.] 

Creontey  Coro. 

Creonte.  Oime,  che  far  debb'  io  ?  Pianger  me 
stesso, 
O  la  ruina  della  patria  ?    intorno 
Di  cui  veggo  si  folta  e  oscura  nebbia, 
Ch'  io  non  so  se  maggior  copra  1'  inferno  ? 
Pur  ora  il  mio  figliuol  m'  ho  visto  innanzi 
Del  proprio  sangue  orribile  e  vermiglio, 
Ch'  egli,  alia  patria  troppo  caro  amico, 
E  al  padre  suo  fiero  nimico,  ha  sparso, 
A  se  acquistando  un  onorato  nome, 
E  gloria  eterna ;  a  me  perpetuo  duolo. 
La  cui  morte  infelice,  or  tutta  afflitta, 
Piange  la  casa  mia,  tal  ch'  io  non  veggo 
Cosa  che  piu  V  acqueti,  o  la  consoli. 
Et  io  venuto  son,  perche  Giocasta, 
Mia  sorella,  benche  dolente  e  mesta. 
Per  tante  sue  non  comparabil  pene, 
Faccia  a  quel  corpo  misero  il  lavacro, 
E  procuri  per  lui  che  piti  non  vive 
Quanto  si  deve  :  perche  a'  morti  corpi 


Actus    [v.]    Scena   i. 

Creon,     Chorus. 

\_Creon.'\    Alas!  what  shall  I  do  ?  bemone  my 
selfe  ? 
Or  rue  the  ruine  of  my  native  lande, 
About  the  which  such  cloudes  I  see  enclosde, 
As  darker  cannot  cover  dreadful  hell. 
With    mine    own   eyes    I    saw    my  own    deare 

Sonne  5 

All  gorde  with  bloud  of  his  too  bloudy  brest, 
Which  he  hath  shed  full  like  a  friend,  too  deare 
To  his  countrey,  and  yet  a  cruell  foe 
To  me,  that  was  his  friend  and  father  both. 
Thus  to  him  selfe  he  gaynde  a  famous  name         lo 
And  glory  great,  to  me  redoubled  payne  : 
Whose  haplesse  death  in  my  afflicted  house 
Hath  put  suche  playnt,  as  I  ne  can  espie 
What  comfort  might  acquiet  their  distresse. 
I  hither  come  my  sister  for  to  seeke,  15 

Jocasta,  she  that  might  in  wofull  wise, 
Amid  hir  high  and  overpining  cares. 
Prepare  the  baynes  for  his  so  wretched  corps, 
And  eke  for  him  that  nowe  is  not  in  life 
May  pay  the  due  that  to  the  dead  pertaynes ;        20 

^ctus  v.    So  in  MS.  and  Qi  :    misprinted  iii  in  Q2  and  Q3. 


358  ^tocasfta  [Acrv. 

Convien,  per  render  lor  debito  onore,  ao 

Far  sacrificio  air  infernal  Plutone. 

Coro,  Signer,  e  assai  che  la  sorella  vostra 
E  uscita  del  palazzo,  e  con  la  madre 
Antigone  fanciulla. 

Cre.  E  dove  sono 

Andate  ? 

Coro.      Al  campo. 

Cre.  La  cagion  dl  questo  ?  25 

Coro.  Ha  inteso  che  i  figliuol  dovevan  oggi 
Combatter  per  cagion  di  questo  regno. 

Cre.  L'  esequie  del  figliuol  m'  hanno  condotto 
A  non  considerar  tal  cosa,  e  meno 
A  cercar  di  saperla. 

Coro.  Ella  n'  e  andata;  30 

E  penso  che  fin  or  sara  fornito 
L'  empio  duel  che  ne  spaventa  il  core. 

Cre.  Ecco  di  quello  che  per  voi  si  teme 
Indicio  chiaro :   e  lo  dimostra  il  volto 
Turbato,  e  tristo  di  costui  che  viene.  35 

[ScENA  2.] 

Nuncio,  Creonte,  Coro. 

Nuncio.  Misero  me,  che  dir  debb*  io  ?  quai 
voci, 
Quai  parole  formar? 


sczszu.]  31ocafifta  359 

And  for  the  honor  he  did  well  deserve, 
To  give  some  giftes  unto  infernall  gods. 

Chorus.   My  lorde,  your  sister  is  gone  forth 
long  since 
Into  the  campe,  and  with  hir  Antigone, 
Hir  daughter  deare.  25 

Cre.   Into  the  campe  ?  alas  !  and  what  to  do  ? 

Cho.   She  understoode,  that    for   this    realme 
foorthwith 
Her  sonnes  were  greed  in  combate  for  to  joyne. 

Cre.  Alas,  the  funerals  of  my  deare  sonne 
Dismayed  me  so,  that  I  ne  did  receive  30 

Ne    seeke    to    knowe   these  newe    unwelcome 

newes. 
But  loe,  beholde  a  playne  apparant  signe 
Of  further  feares  !   the  furious  troubled  lookes 
Of  him  that  commeth  heere  so  hastilye. 

ScENA  2. 
Nunciusy  CreoUy  Chorus. 

\_Nuncius.'^   Alas,  alas!  what  shall  I  doe?  alas! 
What    shriching   voyce    may    serve    my  wofull 

wordes  ? 
O  wretched  I,  ten  thousande  times  a  wretch, 
The  messanger  of  dread  and  cruell  death  ! 

23  My  lordj  your  sister  is.    MS.,  Your  sister  is,  my  lord. 

24  tuith  hir  Antigone.   MS.,  Antigone  with  her. 


360  ^iocasfta  [actv. 

Creonte.  Principio  tristo. 

Nun.  Misero  me,  misero  me  piu  volte, 
Nuncio  di  crudelta,  nuncio  di  morte. 

Ore.  Appresso  1'  altro  mal  che  male  apporti  ? 

Nun.  I  vostri  due  nepoti,  Signor  mio, 
Non  son  piu  vivi. 

Ore.  Oime,  grave  ruina 

A  me  infelice,  e  alia  Citta  racconti. 
Real  casa  d'  Edipo,  intendi  questo  ? 
I  tuoi  cari  Signori,  i  due  fratelli, 
Oggi  son  spenti,  oggi  son  giti  a  morte. 

Coro.  Nuova  crudele,  oime  : 
Crudelissima  nuova  ; 
Nuova  da  far  che  queste  istesse  mura 
Per  pieta  si  spezzasser  lagrimando ; 
E  lo  farian,  s'  avesser  senso  umano. 

Cre.   Oime,  giovani  indegn[i] 
Di  tal  calamita :   ma  ben  del  tutto 
Misero  me. 

Nun.  Piu  vi  parra,  Signore, 

D'  esser  misero,  quando  intenderete 
Maggior  miseria. 

Cre.  E  come,  come  puote 

Esser  di  cio  miseria  altra  piii  grave  ? 

Nun.  Con  i  figliuoli  la  Reina  e  morta. 

17  indegni.    O,  D,  indegne. 


Scene  n.]  3IOCa0ta  36 1 

Creon.  Yet  more  mishap  ?  and  what  unhappie 

newes  ?  5 

Nun.   My  lord,  your  nephues   both  have  lost 

their  lives. 
Cre.   Out  and  alas  !   to  me  and  to  this  towne 
Thou  doest  accompt  great  ruine  and  decay. 
You  royall  familie  of  Oedipus, 
And  heare  you  this  ?   your  liege  and  soveraigne 

lordes,  1° 

The    brethren    both,   are    slayne    and    done    to 
death. 
Chorus.   O  cruell  newes,  most  cruell  that  can 
come, 
O  newes  that  might  these  stony  walles  provoke 
For  tender  ruthe  to  brust  in  bitter  teares. 
And  so  they  would,  had  they  the  sense  of  man.   15 
Cre.   O  worthy  yong  lordes,  that  un-  Cesers 

worthy  were  tears. 

Of  such  unworthy  death  !   O  me  moste  wretch  ! 
Nun.   More   wretched   shall  ye  deeme   your 
selfe,  my  lord. 
When  you  shall  heare  of  further  miserie. 

Cre.   And    can    there    be    more    miserie  than 

this  ?  20 

Nun.  With  hir  deare  sonnes  the  Queene  hir 

self  is  slaine. 
Cho.   Bewayle,  ladies,  alas,  good  ladies,  waile 

14  brust.    MS.  and  Qi,  burst. 


362  ^iocasfta  [act  v. 

Coro.   Piangete,  Donne,  oime, 
Oime,  Donne,  piangete  :  25 

Piangete  il  vostro  male 
Senza  speranza  di  gioir  piu  mai. 

Cre.   O  misera  Giocasta  ! 
Oime,  che  fine  acerbo 

Delia  tua  vita  hai  sostenuto  ?  Forse  30 

Hallo  permesso  il  Cielo, 
Mosso  dair  empie  nozze 
Del  tuo  figliuol  Edipo  ? 
Ben  ti  dovea  iscusare 

Non  saper  di  peccare.  35 

Ma  dimmi,  Nuncio,  dimmi 
La  scellerata  morte 
Dei  due  crudi  germani, 
A  cio  sforzati  e  spinti, 

Non  pur  dal  suo  destine,  40 

M'  ancor  dalle  biasteme 
Del  crudo  padre  loro, 
Nato  per  nostro  danno  ; 
D'  ogni  scelerita  nel  mondo  esempio. 

Nun.  Signor,  saper  dovete  come  il  fine  45 

Delia  guerra  che  fu  sotto  le  mura 
Era  successo  assai  felicemente  ; 
Ch'  Eteocle  cacciato  avea  gli  Argivi 
Con  gran  vergogna  lor  dentro  i  ripari. 
Avvenne  poi  che  si  sfidaro  insieme  50 

Polinice  a  battaglia  et  Eteocle, 


Scene  II]  JlOCafiftH  363 

This  harde  mischaunce,  this  cruell  common  evill, 
Ne  hencefoorth  hope  for  ever  to  rejoyce. 

Cre.   O  Jocasta,  miserable  mother,  25 

What  haplesse  ende  thy  life,  alas  !  hath  hent  ? 
Percase  the  heavens  purveyed  had  the  same, 
Moved  therto  by  the  wicked  wedlocke 
Of  Oedipus  thy  sonne.    Yet  might  thy  scuse 
Be  justly  made,  that  knewe  not  of  the  crime.        30 
But  tell  me,  messanger,  oh,  tell  me  w  h  k 

y^t  somtimes 

The   death    of  these   two   brethren,  wiUingly  to 

driven  therto  wofuU  news. 

Not  thus  all  onely  by  their  drearie  fate. 
But  by  the  banning  and  the  bitter  cursse 
Of  their  cruell  sire,  borne  for  our  annoy,  35 

And  here  on  earth  the  onely  soursse  of  evill. 
Nun.  Then  know,  my  lorde,  the  battell  that 
begonne 
Under  the  walles  was  brought  to  luckie  ende. 
Eteocles  had  made  his   [foemen]   flee 
Within  their  trenches,  to  their  foule  reproche  :     40 
But  herewithall  the  brethren  both  straightway 
Eche  other  chalenge[d]   foorth  into  the  fielde, 
By  combate  so  to  stinte  their  cruell  strife ; 

35   sire.     In  the  MS.  a  later  hand  has  crossed  out  sire  and  sub- 
stituted yaM^r. 

39  foemen.    So  in  the  MS.  and  Ql.      Q2,  fotemen. 

41  brethren  both.      Ql,  bretheren. 

42  ckalenged.     MS.,  challendge.     Qq,  chalenge. 


364  ^iocasfca  [act  v. 

Ponendo  sopra  lor  tutta  la  guerra. 
I  quai,  poiche  comparsero  nel  campo 
Insieme  armati,  Polinice  prima, 
Volgendo  gli  occhi  in  verso  d'  Argo,  mosse 
Questi  air  alma  Giunon  divoti  preghi. 
Santa  Reina,  tu  ben  vedi  come 
Son  tuo,  dappoi  che  in  matrimonio  tolsi 
La  iigliuola  d'    Adrasto,  e  fo  dimora 
Nella  Greca  Citta :   s'  io  ne  son  degno, 
Concedemi  ch'  i'  uccida  il  mio  fratello, 
Concedemi  ch'  io  tinga  nel  suo  sangue 
La  vincitrice  man.    So  ch'  io  dimando 
Certo  brutto  trionfo  e  indegne  spoglie ; 
Ma  cagion  me  ne  da  questo  crudele. 
Pianse  la  turba,  alle  parole  interna 
Di  Polinice,  prevedendo  il  fine 
Di  quel  duello  :   e  1'  uno  e  V  altro  in  viso 
Si  riguardava  stupido  e  tremante. 
Per  la  pieta  ch*  ai  giovanetti  avea. 
Quando  Eteocle,  riguardando  il  Cielo, 
Disse :   concedi  a  me,  Figlia  di  Giove, 
Che  questa  acuta  lancia  entri  nel  petto 


Scene  H.]  3|OCa0ta  365 

Who  armed  thus  amid  the  fielde  appeard. 

First  Polynice,  turning  toward  Greece  45 

His  lovely  lookes,  gan  Juno  thus  beseeche  : 

"  O  heavenly  queene,  thou  seest  that  since  the 

day 
I  first  did  wedde  Adrastus  daughter  deare, 
And    stayde   in    Greece,   thy    servaunt   have   I 

bene : 
Then  (be  it  not  for  thine  unworthinesse)  50 

Graunt  me  this  grace,  the  victorie  to  winne, 
Graunt  me,  that  I  with  high  triumphant  hande 
May  bathe  this  blade  within  my  brothers  brest : 
I  know  I  crave  unworthy  victorie, 
Unworthy  triumphes  and  unworthy  spoyles ;         55 
Lo  he  the  cause,  my  cruell  enimie." 
The  people  wept  to  heare  the  wofull  wordes 
Of  Polynice,  foreseeing  eke  the  ende 
Of  this  outrage  and  cruell  combat  tane ; 
Eche  man  gan  looke  upon  his  drouping  mate        60 
With  mindes  amazed,  and  trembling  hearts  for 

dread. 

Whom  pitie  perced  for  these  youthfuU  knightes. 
Eteocles,  with  eyes  up  cast  to  heaven. 
Thus  sayde  : 

'  O  mightie  Jove  his  daughter  graunt  to  me,        65 
That  this  right  hande  with  this  sharpe  armed 

launce 

51    this.    MS.,  the. 


366  ^tocaflfta  [actv. 

Di  mio  fratello,  e  gli  trapassi  il  core, 
Tal  ch'  uccida  colui  ch'  indegnamente 
Turba  la  patria  ed  il  riposo  nostro 
Cosi  disse  Eteocle :  e  udendo  il  segno 
Delia  lor  pugna,  1'  uno  e  1'  altro  mosse. 
Come  Serpi,  o  Leon  di  rabbia  ardenti. 
Ambi  a'  visi  drizzar  le  aguzze  punte  : 
Ma  volse  il  Ciel  che  non  ebbero  efFetto. 
Gli  scudi  si  passar,  e  1'  aste  loro 
Si  rupper  ambe,  e  in  mille  scheggie  andaro. 
Ecco,  ambi  con  le  spade  ignude  in  mano 
Corrono  irati  T  un  deir  altro  addosso. 
Di  qua  i  Tebani,  e  di  la  dubbi  stanno 
Gli  Argivi ;  e  questi  e  quel  sentono  al  core 
Maggior  paura  per  la  vita  d'  ambi, 
Che  non  sentono  i  due  nelP  arme  affanno. 
Ai  torvi  aspetti,  ai  gravi  colpi  fieri 
Dimostravano  ben  che  nel  suo  petto 
Fosse  quant'  odio  mai,  disdegno,  ed  ira 


Scene  n.]  ^lOCHfifta  3^7 

(Passing  amid  my  brothers  cankred  brest,) 

It  may  eke  pierce  that  cowarde  hart  of  his, 

And  so  him  slea  that  thus  unworthily 

Disturbes  the  quiet  of  our  common  weale."  70 

So  sayde  Eteocles,  and  trumpets  blowne, 

To  sende  the  summons  of  their  bloudy  fighte, 

That  one  the  other  fiercely  did  encounter. 

Like  lions  two,  yfraught  with  boyling  wrath, 

Bothe  coucht  their  launces  full  agaynst  the  face.   75 

But  heaven  it  *  nolde  that  there  they  „,    , , 

,        ,  ,     ,  .  ^  Would  not. 

should  them  temte  : 

Upon  the  battred  shields  the  mightie  speares 

Are  bothe  ybroke,  and  in  a  thousande  shivers 

Amid  the  ayre  flowne  up  into  the  heavens  : 

Beholde  agayne,  with  naked  sworde  in  hande        80 

Eche  one  the  other  furiously  assaultes. 

Here  they  of  Thebes,  there  stoode  the  Greekes 

in  doubt, 
Of  whom  doth  eche   man    feele   more  chilling 

dread, 
Least  any  of  the  twayne  should  lose  his  life 
Than  any  of  the  twayne  did  feele  in  fight.  85 

Their  angry  lookes,  their  deadly  daunting  blowes 
Might   witnesse   well   that   in  their  heartes   re- 

maynde 
As  cankred  hate,  disdayne  and  furious  moode, 

72   lende.    Q3,  sounde.  79  fioiune.    MS.,  flewe. 

80  sworde.    Q3,  swords.  84  Leau.    Q3,  Lest. 


368  ^iiocas^ta  [act  v. 

Esser  possa  in  due  cor  di  Tigre,  e  d'  Orso. 

Polinice  fu  il  primo  ch'  a  Eteocle 

Feri  la  destra  coscia  ;  ma  la  piaga 

Giudicata  non  fu  molto  profonda. 

Gridaro  allor  pien  di  letizia  i  Greci : 

Ma  tacquer  tosto ;   ch'  Eteocle  immerse 

La  punta  della  spada  a  Polinice 

Nel  manco  braccio  disarmato,  e  nudo 

D'  ogni  riparo,  e  fuor  ne  trasse  il  sangue, 

Che  stillante  n*  usci,  fervente,  e  caldo. 

Ne  si  fermo,  che  V  umbilico  ancora 

D'  un'  altra  punta  al  suo  fratello  aperse; 

Onde  '1  meschino  abbandonando  il  freno, 

Pallido  cadde  del  cavallo  in  terra  : 

Non  tarda  il  nostro  Duca ;  ma  discende 

Anch'  ei  del  proprio,  e  all'  infelice  accorre 

Per  torre  a  quel  le  guadagnate  spoglie : 

Et  era  tanto  a  dispogliarlo  intento ; 

Siccome  quel  che  si  credea  d'  avere 

Gia  la  vittoria  del  fratello  ucciso ; 

Che  non  s'  accorse  che  egli,  ch'  avea  tratto 

In  mano  il  suo  pugnale,  e  '1  tenea  stretto 

Con  quel  vigor  che  gli  restava  ancora, 

Gli  trapasso  in  un  colpo  il  petto  e  '1  core; 

93  di  Tigre,  e  d'  Orso.    O,  di  Tygre  e  di  Orsa. 


Scene  D.]  JiOtU^td,  369 

As  ever  bred  in  beare  or  tygers  brest. 

The  first  that  hapt  to  hurt  was  Polinice,  90 

Who  smote  the  righte  thighe  of  Eteocles  : 

But  as  we  deeme,  the  blow  was  nothing  deepe. 

Then  cryed  the  Greekes,  and  lepte  with  lightned 

harts 
But  streight  agayne  they  helde  their  peace,   for 

why  ? 
Eteocles  gan  thrust  his  wicked  sworde  95 

In  the  lefte  arme  of  unarmed  Pollinice, 
And  let  the  bloud  from  bare  unfenced  fleshe 
With  falling  drops  distill  upon  the  ground. 
Ne  long  he  stayes,  but  with  an  other  thrust 
His  brothers  belly  boweld  with  his  blade.  100 

Then  wretched  he,  with  bridle  left  at  large, 
From  of  his  horsse  fell  pale  upon  the  ground ; 
Ne  long  it  was,  but  downe  our  duke  dismountes 
From  of  his  startling  steede,  and  runnes  in  hast, 
His  brothers  haplesse  helme  for  to  unlace,  105 

And  with  such  hungry  minde  desired  spoyle, 
(As  one  that  thought  the  fielde  already  woonne) 
That  at  unwares,  his  brothers  dagger  drawne 
And  griped  fast  within  the  dying  hand. 
Under  his  side  he  recklesse  doth  receive,  no 

That  made  the  way  to  his  wyde  open  hart. 

92   nothing.    MS.,  not  too. 

94  ivAy.    MS.  and  Qi,  he.     (?)  omitted. 

97  hare.   MS.  and  Qi,  thinne.     106  desired.  MS.,  gan  mynde  the. 


370  ^iocasfta  [actv. 

Cadde  Eteocle  allor  sopra  il  fratello, 

E  r  uno  e  1'  altro  sanguinoso  diede 

Agli  Argivi,  e  ai  Teban  spettacol  fiero. 

Coro.  Ah  de'  nostri  Signor  misero  fine !  120 

Cre.   Edipo,  Edipo,  i'  piango  i  tuoi  figliuoli, 

Perche  son  miei  nipoti:   ma  dovrebbe 

Di  questa  morte  in  te  cader  la  pena; 

Perche  tu  sol  con  le  preghiere  usate 

Nel  danno  loro  gli  hai  condotti  a  morte.  125 

Ma  segui  quanto  a  raccontar  ti  resta. 

Nun.  Tosto  che  i  due  fratei  cadder  trafitti 

Miseramente  dalle  proprie  mani, 

Versando  V  un  sopra  dell'  altro  il  sangue ; 

Ecco  venir  V  afflitta  madre  insieme  130 

Con  la  vergine  Antigone:  la  quale 

Non  si  tosto  gli  vide  in  quello  stato, 

Che  d*  un  misero  oime  percosse  il  Cielo. 


Scene  n.]  3(!0CaSfta  371 

Thus  falles  Eteocles  his  brother  by, 

From  both  whose  breasts  the  bloud  fast  bubling 

gave 
A  sory  shewe  to  Greekes  and  Thebanes  both. 
Cho.    Oh    wretched    ende    of   our    unhappie 

lordes !  115 

Cre.    Oh  Oedipus  !  I  must  bewaile  the  death 
Of  thy  deare  sonnes,  that  were  my  nephewes 

both; 
But   of  these   blowes   thou   oughtest    feele   the 

smarte, 
That  with  thy  wonted  prayers  thus  hast  brought 
Such  noble  blouds  to  this  unnoble  end.  120 

But  now  tell  on  ;  what  followed  of  the  Queene  ? 
Nun.    When  thus  with  pierced  harts,  by  their 

owne  hands 
The  brothers  fell  and  wallowed  in  their  bloud, 
(That  one  still  tumbling  on  the  others  gore) 
Came  their  afflicted  mother,  then  to  late,  125 

And  eke  with  hir,  chast  childe  Antygone, 
Who  saw  no  sooner  how  their  fates  had  falne, 
But  with  the  doubled  echo  of  Alas  ! 
She  dymmde  the  ayre  with  loude  complaints  and 

cryes  : 

123  and.    Qi,  had. 

124  That  one  still.    MS.  and  Ql,  Th  one. 
126   hir.    MS.  and  Qi,  her,  her. 

129   She  dymmde.    MS.  and  Qi,  sore  dymmed. 


372  ^iocasfta  [act  v. 

Ah,  diceva,  figliuoli,  ah,  troppo  tardo 

Ora  e  1'  aiuto  mio,  tardo  soccorso  13S 

V  apporto:   e  col  gridar  fu  giunta  appresso 

I  due  cari  figliuoli,  ove  piangendo 

Formo  lamenti  da  fermar  il  Sole. 

La  pietosa  sorella,  anch'  ella  insieme 

Con  la  madre  rigando  ambe  le  guancie  140 

Di  largo  pianto,  dal  profondo  petto 

Trasse  queste  amarissime  parole: 

Cari  fratelli  miei,  la  madre  nostra 

Abbadonate  allor  che  questa  sua 

Gia  stanca  eta,  si  debole  e  canuta,  14s 

Piii  di  bisogno  avea  del  vostro  aiuto: 

Cari  fratelli  miei,  voi  ci  lasciate 

Ambe  senza  conforto,  e  senza  pace. 

Al  suon  di  tai  lamenti  il  Signor  nostro 

Mando  con  gran  fatica  fuor  del  petto  150 

Un  debole  sospiro,  e  alzo  la  mano. 

Quasi  mostrando  di  voler  alquanto 

Racconsolar  la  madre,  e  la  sorella  : 

Ma  in  vece  di  parole  fuor  per  gli  occhi 

Gli  uscir  alcune  lagrime,  e  dipoi  155 


Scene  n.]  31OCa0ta  373 

Oh   sonnes   (quod  she),   too   late  came   all   my 

helpe,  130 

And  all  to  late  have  I  my  succour  sent : 
And  v/ith  these  wordes  upon  their  carcas  colde 
She  shriched  so,  as  might  have  stayed  the  sunne 
To  mourne  with  hir :   the  wofull  sister  eke 
(That    both    hir    chekes    did    bathe   in    flowing 

teares)  135 

Out  from  the  depth  of  hir  tormented  brest 
With    scalding    sighes    gan   draw    these    weary 

words ; 
O  my  deare  brethren,  why  abandon  ye 
Our  mother  deare,  when  these  hir  aged  yeares 
(That   of   themselves    are  weake    and    growne 

with  griefe,)  140 

Stoode  most  in  neede  of  your  sustaining  helpe  ? 
Why  doe  you  leave  hir  thus  disconsolate  ? 
At  sounde  of  such  hir  weeping  long  lament, 
Eteocles  our  king  helde  up  his  hand. 
And  sent  from  bottome  of  his  wofull  brest  145 

A  doubled  sighe,  devided  with  his  griefe, 
In  faithfull  token  of  his  feeble  will 
To  recomfort  his  mother  and  sister  both  : 
And  in  [the]  steade  of  sweete  contenting  words 
The  trickling   teares    raynde    downe   his    paled 

chekes :  150 

133   shrieked.    MS.,  shriked.  142  you.    MS.,  ye. 

149  the.    Only  in  MS.  and  Qi. 


374  ^ioca0ta  [act  v. 

Chiuse  le  mani,  e  abbandono  la  luce. 

Ma  rivolgendo  Polinice  gli  occhi 

Alia  sorella,  ed  alia  vecchia  madre, 

Disse  con  bassi  ed  imperfetti  accent!: 

Madre,  come  vedete,  io  giungo  al  fine  i6o 

Deir  infelice  mio  breve  cammino  : 

Ne  mi  rest'  altro,  fuor  che  di  dolermi 

Per  voi,  ch'  io  lascio,  e  per  la  mia  sorella 

In  continue  miserie,  e  parimente 

Dolgomi  della  morte  d'  Eteocle;  165 

Che,  sebben  il  crudel  mi  fu  nimico. 

Era  di  voi  figliuolo,  e  a  me  fratello. 

Or,  mentre  ambi  n*  andremo  ai  Regni  Stigi, 

Pregovi,  o  madre,  e  tu  cara  sorella, 

Che  procurar  vogliate  che  '1  mio  corpo  170 

Abbia  nella  mia  patria  sepoltura. 

Or  mi  chiudete  con  le  vostre  mani, 

Madre,  quest'  occhi,  e  rimanete  in  pace; 

Che  gia  circondan  le  mie  luci  intorno 

Le  tenebre  perpetue  della  morte.  175 

Cosi  disse,  et  insieme  mando  fuori 

L'  alma  ch'  era  gia  in  via  per  dipartirsi. 

Ma  la  madre,  vedendo  ambi  i  figliuoli 

177  gia  in  via.      O,  in  gia  via. 


Scene  II.]  31OCa0ta  375 

Then    claspt    his   hands,    and    shut    his    dying 

eyes. 
But  Polynice,  that  turned  his  rolling  eyen 
Unto  his  mother  and  his  sister  deare, 
With  hollow  voyce    and   fumbling  toung  thus 

spake  : 
"  Mother,  you  see  how  I  am  now  arryved  155 

Unto  the  [haven]  of  mine  unhappie  ende  : 
Now  nothing  doth  remaine  to  me  but  this, 
That  I  lament  my  sisters  life  and  yours. 
Left  thus  in  everlasting  woe  and  griefe : 
So  am  I  sory  for  Eteocles,  160 

Who,  though  he  were  my  cruell  enimie. 
He  was  your  sonne,  and  brother  yet  to  me  : 
But  since  these  ghostes  of  ours  must  needes  go 

downe 
With  staggring  steppes  into  the  Stigian  reigne, 
I  you  besech,  mother  and  sister  bothe,  165 

Of  pitie  yet,  that  you  will  me  procure 
A  royall  tombe  within  my  native  realme  : 
And    now    shut    up    with    those    your    tender 

handes 
These  griefFull  eyes  of  mine,  whose  dazeled  light 
Shadowes  of  dreadfull  death  be  come  to  close.     170 
Now  rest  in  peace."    This  sayde,  he  yeelded  up 
His  fainting  ghost,  that  ready  was  to  part. 
The  mother,  thus  beholding  both  hir  sonnes 

156  ha'ven.    So  in  MS.,  Qi,  QS-    Q2,  heaven. 


376  6ioca0ta  [actv. 

Morti,  vinta  dal  duol,  colse  il  pugnale 

Di  Polinice,  e  si  passo  la  gola,  i8o 

E  cadde  in  mezzo  ai  suoi  figliuoli  morta, 

Con  le  deboli  man  quelli  abbracciando; 

Siccome  seco  in  compagnia  volesse 

Passar  mesta  e  scontenta  all'  altra  riva. 

Poiche  P  empio  destin  condusse  a  morte  185 

Con  due  cari  figliuol  la  madre  insieme, 

Allor  tra'  nostri,  e  tra'  nemici  nacque 

Grave  contesa;  che  ciascun  volea 

Che  dal  suo  lato  la  vittoria  fosse. 

Al  fin  si  corse  alP  arme,  e  combattendo  19° 

Arditamente  d*  una  e  d'  altra  parte, 

Fuggir  gli  Argivi,  e  con  fatica  pochi 

Si  salvar,  che  ne  furo  uccisi  tanti, 

Ch'  altro  non  si  vedea,  che  sangue,  e  corpi. 

De'  nostri  altri  restar  di  fuora  intenti  195 

A  dipredar  e  a  dispogliar  gli  uccisi; 

Altri  partian  tra  lor  le  ricche  prede : 

Altri,  seguendo  Antigone,  levaro 

La  Reina  Giocasta,  et  i  fratelli 

Sopra  d'  un  carro,  e  qui  gli  portan  ora.  aoo 

Cosi  da  un  canto  la  vittoria  abbiamo; 


Scene  II.]  3IOCa0ta  377 

Ydone  to  death,  and,  overcome  with  dole, 

Drewe  out  the  dagger  of  hir  Pollinice  175 

From  brothers  brest,  and  gorde  therewyth  her 

throte. 
Falling  betweene  hir  sonnes  : 
Then  with  hir  feebled  armes  she  doth  [e]  nfolde 
Their  bodies  both,  as  if  for  company 
Hir  uncontented  corps  were  yet  content  180 

To  passe  with  them  in  Charons  ferrie  boate. 
When  cruell  fate  had  thus  with  force  bereft 
The  wofull  mother  and  hir  two  deare  sonnes, 
All  sodenly,  allarme  !   allarme  !   they  crye. 
And  bote  conflict  began  for  to  aryse  185 

Betwene  our  armie  and  our  enemyes  : 
For  either  part  would  have  the  victorye. 
A  while  they  did  with  equall  force  maintaine 
The  bloody  fight ;   at  last  the  Greekes  do  flie, 
Of  whom  could  hardly  any  one  escape,  190 

For  in  such  hugie  heapes  our  men  them  slew, 
The  ground  was  coverde  all  with  carcases; 
And  of  souldiers,  some  gan  spoyle  the  dead. 
Some  other  were  that  parted  out  the  pray. 
And  some  pursuing.    Antigone  toke  up  195 

The  Queene  Jocasta  and  the  brethren  both. 
Whom  in  a  chariot  hither  they  will  bring 

175  Pollinice.    Qi,  Pollinices. 

176  tkereivyth  her.    MS.,  their  mothers. 

178   enfolde.    So  in  MS.  and  Qi.    Q2,  Q3,  unfolde. 


378  ^iocasfta  [act  v. 

Dair  altro  piu  che  i  vinti  abbiam  perduto, 
Poiche  miseramente  in  questa  guerra 
I  tre  nostri  Signor  perduto  abbiamo. 

Coro.   Dura  infelicita !    Gia  non  udimmo  205 

Noi  de'  nostri  Signor  1'  acerba  morte  ? 
Ma,  quel  ch'  e  piu  crudel,  veggiamo  ancora 
I  tre  corpi  defunti ;   eccogli  avanti. 

[ScENA   3.] 
Antigoney  Coro. 
Antigone.   Amarissimo  pianto, 
Donne,  Donne,  conviene: 
Convien  che  ciascaduna, 
Non  pur  pianga  e  si  dolga 

Ma  squarci  i  crini,  e  si  percuota  il  volte.  5 

Ecco,  fra  due  figliuoli 
Qui  la  Reina  morta: 
Quella  che  amaste  tanto, 
Quella  ch'  ad  una  ad  una 

Voi  tutte,  come  figlie,  10 

Nudrir  e  amar  solea : 
Or  v'  ha  lasciate,  ahi  sorte. 
Con  troppo  cruda  morte, 
Sconsolate,  dolenti,  e  senza  aita. 
Ahi,  dolorosa  vita,  15 

Perche  ancor  resti  in  me?   dunque  ho  potuto 
Veder  morir  colei 
Che  mi  die  questa  vita, 


Scene  m.]  ^lOCaS^ta  379 

Ere  long :  and  thus,  although  we  gotten  have 

The  victory  over  our  enemies, 

Yet  have  we  lost  much    more    than    we    have 

wonne.  Creon  exit.  200 

Cho.   O  hard  mishap,  we  doe  not  onelv  heare 
The  wearie  newes  of  their  untimely  death, 
But  eke  we  must  with  wayling  eyes  beholde 
Their    bodies    deade,   for   loke  where   they   be 

brought. 

SCENA    3. 

Antigone^  Chorus. 

\_Antigone.'\    Most  bitter  plaint,  O  ladyes,  us 

behoves : 
Behoveth  eke  not  onely  bitter  plainte, 
But  that  our  heares  dyshevylde  from  our  heades 
About  our  shoulders  hang,  and  that  our  brests 
With  bouncing  blowes  be  all  be-battered,  5 

Our  gastly  faces  with  our  nayles  defaced. 

\The  bodies  are  brought  in  in  a  chariot.'^ 
Behold,  your  Queene  twixt  both  hir  sonnes  lyes 

slayne. 
The  Queene  whom  you  did  love  and  honour  both. 
The  Queene  that  did  so  tenderly  bring  up 
And  nourishe  you,  eche  one  like  to  hir  owne,       jq 
Now  hath  she  left  you  all  (O  cruell  hap ! ) 

5   be-battered.     MS.,  to-battered. 


380  ^ioca^ta  (act  v. 

Et  io  rimaner  viva? 

Oime,  chi  porgera  si  largo  umore  20 

A  queste  luci  afflitte, 

Che  basti  a  lagrimar  quanto  i'  vorrei 

L'  interno  mio  dolore? 

Coro.   Ben  crudo  e  chi  non  piange, 
O  misera  fanciulla.  25 

Jnt.  Madre,  perduto  io  v*  ho,  perduto  insieme 
Ho  i  miei  cari  fratelli. 
O  Polinice  mio,  tu  col  tuo  sangue 
Hai  posto  fine  alia  crudel  contesa 
Ch'  avevi  con  colui  30 

Che  gia  ti  tolse  il  Regno ; 
E  finalmente  t'  ha  la  vita  tolta. 
Che  non  puo  1'  ira  oime,  che  non  puo  1'  ira  ? 
Lassa,  che  far  debb'  io  ? 

Gia  voi  vivendo,  era  mia  speme  viva  35 

Di  vedermi  gioire 
Di  fortunate  nozze, 
E  sentirmi  chiamar  donna,  e  Reina. 
Or  col  vostro  morire 

£  la  speranza  morta ;  40 

E  non  spero  giammai, 
Se  non  tormenti  e  guai, 
Se  pur  questa  mia  man  fia  tanto  vile, 
Che  non  sappia  finire 
Questa  misera  vita.  45 

Coro,  Deh,  non  voler,  fanciulla 


Scene  III]  31OCa0ta  38 1 

With  hir  too  cruell  death  in  dying  dreade, 
Pyning  with  pensifenesse  without  all  helpe. 
O  weary  life,  why  bydste  thou  in  my  breast, 
And  I  contented  be  that  these  mine  eyes  15 

Should  see  hir  dye  that  gave  to  me  this  life, 
And  I  not  venge  hir  death  by  losse  of  life? 
Who  can  me  give  a  fountaine  made  of  mone. 
That  I  may  weepe  as  muche  as  is  my  will, 
To  sowsse  this  sorow  up  in  swelling  teares  ?         20 

Chorus.   What   stony   hart   could  leave  for  to 
lament  ? 

Jnt.   O  Polinice,  now  hast  thou  with  thy  bloud 
Bought  all  too  deare  the  title  to  this  realme. 
That  cruell  he  Eteocles  thee  refte, 
And  now  also  hath  refte  thee  of  thy  life.  25 

Alas  !   what  wicked  dede  can  wrath  not  doe  ? 
And  out,  alas,  for  mee! 
Whyle  thou  yet  livedst,  I  had  a  lively  hope 
To  have  some  noble  wight  to  be  my  pheere, 
By  whome  I  might  be  crownde  a  royall  queene :   30 
But  now  thy  hastie  death  hath  done  to  dye 
This  dying  hope  of  mine,  that  hope  hencefoorth 
None  other  wedlocke  but  tormenting  woe. 
If  so  these  trembling  hands  for  cowarde  dread 
Dare  not  presume  to  ende  this  wretched  life.        35 

Cho.  Alas,  deare  dame,  let  not  thy  raging  griefe 
Heape  one  mishap  upon  anothers  head ! 

28  li-vedst.      MS.,  lived. 


382  ^ioca^ca  [act  v. 

Infelice  e  dolente, 
Accrescer  danno  a  danno. 

Ant.   Infelice  quel  giorno 
Che  nacque  il  padre  mio ;  5° 

Piu  infelice  quell'  ora 
Che  coronato  fu  Re  di  Tebani. 
Allor  empio  Imeneo 
Congiunse  oime,  con  scellerate  nozze 
In  un  medesmo  letto  55 

II  figliuol  e  la  madre; 
Onde  noi  siamo  nati 
A  patir  il  flagello 
Delli  costor  peccati. 

O  padre,  che  sei  privo  60 

E  di  luce  e  di  gioia, 
Ascolta,  ascolta  quello 
Che  tu  non  puoi  vedere; 
In  questa  parte  assai 

Fortunate  e  felice  :  65 

Che  se  veder  potessi 
L'  uno  e  r  altro  figliuolo ; 
E  nel  'mezzo  di  loro 
La  tua  consorte,  e  madre 

Tutti  tinti  e  bagnati  70 

In  un  medesmo  sangue, 
Morresti  allor ;  e  cosi  fora  estinta 
Tutta  la  nostra  casa  : 
Ma  pill  tosto  infelice; 


Scene  ni]  31OCa0ta  383 

Ant.   O  dolefull  day,  wherein  my  sory  sire 
Was  borne,  and  yet  O  more  unhappie  houre 
When  he  was  crowned  king  of  stately  Thebes  !  40 
The  Hymenei  in  unhappie  bed 
And  wicked  wedlocke  wittingly  did  joyne 
The  giltlesse  mother  with  hir  giltie  sonne. 
Out  of  which  roote  we  be  the  braunches  borne, 
To  beare  the  scourge  of  their  so  foule  offence.     45 
And  thou,  O  father,  thou  that  for  this  facte 
Haste  torne  thine  eyes  from  thy  tormented  head, 
Give  eare  to  this,  come  foorth,  and  bende  thine 

eare 
To  bloudie  newes,  that  canst  not  them  beholde : 
Happie  in  that,  for  if  thine  eyes  could  see  50 

Thy  sonnes    bothe   slayne,  and   even   betweene 

them  bothe 
Thy  wife  and  mother  dead,  bathed  and  imbrude 
All  in  one  bloud,  then  wouldst  thou  dye  for  dole, 
And  so  might  ende  all  our  unluckie  stocke. 
But  most  unhappie  nowe,  that    lacke  of  sighte      55 
Shall  linger  life  within  thy  lucklesse  brest. 
And  still  tormented  in  suche  miserie, 
Shall  alwayes  dye,  bicause  thou  canst  not  dye. 

Oedipus  entreth. 

50  that.    MS.  and  Qi,  this. 

Oedipus  entreth.    MS.,  Oedipus  intrat. 


384  6iocasfta  Iactv. 

Che  il  non  veder  questo  spettacol  duro  75 

Cagion  sara  che  serberai  la  vita 

A  perpetui  tormenti : 

E  tra  pena  e  martire 

Ogn'  or  morrai,  per  non  poter  morire. 

[ScENA  4.] 
EdipOy  Antigoney  Coro, 

Edtpo.   Perche,  figliuola  mia, 
Uscir  fai  questo  cieco 
Dal  suo  cieco  ed  oscuro 
Albergo  di  miserie  e  di  lamenti 
A  quella  luce  chiara  5 

Che  di  veder  fui  indegno  ? 
E  chi  potra  veder  senza  tormento 
(Ahi,  fato  acerbo  e  forte) 
Questa,  non  d'  uom,  ma  immagine  di  morte  ? 

Antigone.   Padre,  infelice  nuova  10 

A  vostre  orecchie  apporto  : 
I  due  vostri  figliuoli 
Piu  non  veggono  luce  : 
Ne  la  vostra  consorte, 

Che  si  pietosamente  15 

Era  guida  e  sostegno 
De'  vostri  ciechi  passi, 
Vede  piij  il  lume,  oime,  di  questa  vita. 

Edip.   O  miseria  infinita, 


II 


Scene  IV.]  3IOCa0ta  3^5 

SCENA    4. 

Oedipusy  Antigoney  Chorus, 

\OedipusP^    Why  dost  thou  call  out  of  this 

darkesome  denne, 
The  lustlesse  lodge  of  my  lamenting  yeres, 
(O  daughter  deare)  thy  fathers  blinded  eyes 
Into  the  light  I  was  not  worthy  of? 
Or  what  suche  sight  (O  cruell  destenie) 
Without  tormenting  cares  might  I  beholde, 
That  image  am  of  deathe  and  not  of  man  ? 
Antigone.   O    father   mine,  I   bring   unluckie 

newes 
Unto  your  eares  :  your  sonnes  are  nowe  both 

slayne ; 
Ne  doth  your  wife  (that  wonted  was  to  guyde 
So  piteously  your  staylesse  stumbling  steppes) 
Now  see  this  light,  alas  and  welaway ! 
Oed.   O  heape  of  infinite  calamities. 
And  canst  thou  yet  encrease  when  I  thought 

least 
That  any  griefe  more  great  could  grow  in  thee  ? 
But  tell  me  yet,  what  kinde  of  cruell  death 
Had  these  three  sory  soules  ? 

Ant.   Without  offence  to  speake,  deare  father 

mine. 
The  lucklesse  lotte,  the  frowarde  frowning  fate 


386  ^ioca^ta  [act  v. 

Tu  pur  accresci,  quando  ao 

lo  pensava  che  nuovo  alto  dolore 

Giunger  non  si  potesse 

Alle  gravose  mie  perpetue  pene. 

Ma  con  qual  morte,  ahi  lasso, 

Tre  anime  meschine  25 

Sono  uscite  di  vita  ? 

Ant,  lo  lo  diro,  non  per  riprender  voi, 
Caro  e  dolce  mio  padre. 
Quella  cattiva  sorte 

Che  voi  fe'  nascer,  perche  deste  poi  3° 

Al  vostro  padre  morte, 
£  pervenuta  ancor  con  pene  e  duoli 
Nei  miseri  figliuoli. 

Edip,   Oime,  oime. 

Ant,  E  che  piangete  voi  ? 

Ed'ip.   I  miei  figliuoli  io  piango.  35 

Ant.  Pill  piangereste,  o  padre, 
Se  gli  vedeste  innanzi 
Pallidi  e  sanguinosi. 

Edip.   Gia  conosco  qual  sia  stata  la  morte 
Degli  infelici :   or  segui  40 

Quella  della  mia  cara, 
Diro  madre,  o  consorte  ? 

Ant.  La  madre  mia,  dappoi 
Che  vide  morti  i  suoi 

Due  cari  pegni,  45 

Siccome  il  duol  le  avea  trafitto  il  core  ; 


i 


Scene  IV.]  3lOCa0ta  3^7 

That  gave  you  life  to  ende  your  fathers  life,         20 
Have  ledde  your  sonnes   to  reave  eche  others 

life. 
Oed.   Of  them  I  thought  no  lesse,  but  tell 

me  yet 
What  causelesse  death  hath  caught  from  me  my 

deare — 
What  shall  I  call  hir?  — mother  or  my  wife  ? 
Jnt.  Whenas    my    mother    sawe    hir    deare 

sonnes  deade,  25 

As  pensive  pangs  had  prest  hir  tender  heart, 
With  bloudlesse  cheekes  and  gastlv  lookes  she 

fell ; 
Drawing  the  dagger  from  Eteocles  side, 
She  gorde  hirselfe  with  wide  recurelesse  wounde : 
And  thus,  without  mo  words,  gave  up  the  ghost,  30 
Embracing  both  hir  sonnes  with  both  hir  armes. 
In  these  afFrightes  this  frosen  heart  of  mine 
By  feare  of  death  maynteines  my  dying  life. 
Chorus.   This   drearie   day  is   cause  of  many 

evils, 
Poore  Oedipus,  unto  thy  progenie ;  - 

The  gods  yet  graunt  it  may  become  the  cause 
Of  better  happe  to  this  afflicted  realme. 

^Creon  entreth."^ 

Creon  entreth.    No  stage-direction  in  Qq.    MS.,  Creon  intrat. 


388  ^ioca0ta  Iactv. 

Cosi  pallida,  esangue, 

Col  pugnal  che  passato 

Aveva  il  manco  lato 

Del  misero  Eteocle,  50 

Si  trapasso  la  gola 

E  cadde,  oime,  senza  pur  dir  parola, 

L'  uno  e  r  altro  figliuolo 

Con  le  mani  abbracciando  : 

Ed  io  fui  tanto  cruda,  55 

Che  son  rimasa  viva. 

Coro.   Questo  giorno  infelice 
Alia  casa  d'  Edipo 

E  giorno,  oime,  cagion  di  molti  mali. 
Voglia  Dio  ch'  egli  sia  60 

Alia  sua  gente  afflitta 
Cagion  di  miglior  vita. 

[ScENA  5.] 

Creontey  EdipOy  Antigone. 

Creonte.  Donne,  lasciate  omai  querele  e 
pianti, 
Che  tempo  e  gia  di  seppellir  il  corpo 
Del  vostro  Re  con  onorate  esequie. 
Tu,  Edipo,  ascolta  quel  che  dir  ti  voglio. 
Sappi  che  per  la  dote  di  tua  figlia  5  g 

Antigone  ad  Emone  il  tuo  figliuolo 
Eteocle  lascio,  quand'  ei  morisse, 
Ch*  a  me,  come  a  fratello  di  sua  madre. 


Scene  v.]  31OCa0ta  3^9 

SCENA    5. 

Creon,    Oedipus,   Antigone. 

\_Creon.'^    Good  Ladies,  leave  your  bootelesse 

vayne  complaynt, 
Leave  to  lament,  cut  off  your  wofull  cryes; 
High  time  it  is  as  now  for  to  provide 
The  funerals  for  the  renowmed  king : 
And  thou,  Oedipus,  hearken  to  my  wordes. 
And  know  thus  muche,  that  for  thy  daughters 

dower 
Antigone  with  Hemone  shall  be  wedde. 
Thy  Sonne  our  king  not  long  before  his  death 
Assigned  hath  the  kingdome  should  descende 
To  me,  that  am  his  mothers  brother  borne. 
And  so  the  same  might  to  my  sonne  succeede. 
Now  I,  that  am  the  lorde  and  king  of  Thebes, 
Will  not  permit  that  thou  abide  therein  : 
Ne  marvell  yet  of  this  my  heady  will, 
Ne    blame   thou    me :    for   why  ?    the   heavens 

above, 
Which  onely  rule  the  rolling  life  of  man. 
Have  so  ordeynde ;   and  that  my  words  be  true, 
Tyresias,  he  that  knoweth  things  to  come. 
By  trustie  tokens  hath  foretolde  the  towne, 

7  shall  be.    MS.,  shall  altered  in  a  later  hand  to  to  be.    Ql, 
shall. 


390  ^ioca^ta  [act  v. 

Pervenisse  il  dominio  de'  Tebani, 

E  poscia  il  mio  figliuol  ne  fosse  erede  :  lo 

Ond'  io,  come  Signor  e  Re  di  Tebe, 

Non  vo'  conceder  che  piu  alberghi  in  lei 

Ne  ti  maravigliar  del  voler  mio ; 

Ne  ti  doler  di  me,  perocche  '1  Cielo, 

Che  volger  suol  tutte  le  cose  umane,  ,^ 

Cosi  dispone  :   e  ch'  io  ti  parli  il  vero, 

Tiresia,  ch'  e  indovin  di  quanto  avviene, 

Predetto  ha  chiaramente  alia  Cittade 

Che,  mentre  in  Tebe  tu  farai  dimora. 

Da  novo  mal  fia  molestata  sempre  :  20 

Pero  ti  parti :   e  non  pensar  ch'  io  dica 

Tai  parole  per  odio  ch'  io  ti  porti, 

O  perche  i'  sia,  che  non  ti  son,  nimico ; 

Ma  sol  per  ben  di  questa  terra  afflitta. 

Edipo.   O  crudel  mio  destin,  ben  fatto  m'  hai  ^5 
Nascer  alle  miserie  e  alle  fatiche 
Di  questa  morte  che  si  chiama  vita, 
Pill  ch'  uom  mortal  che  mai  nascesse  in  terra. 
Non  era  ancora  nato,  che  mio  padre 
Intese,  oime,  ch'  io  lo  torrei  di  vita :  30 

Onde  appena,  meschino,  apersi  gli  occhi, 
Ch'  ei  mi  fece  gettar  cibo  alle  fere. 
Ma  che  ?    Pervenni  a  Real  stato  :  e  dope 
L'  uccisi  pur,  non  lo  sapendo  :   e  giacqui 
Scellerato  marito  con  mia  madre,  35 

Di  cui,  lasso,  n'  ebb'  io  iigliuoli,  e  figlie. 


Scene  v.]  ^OtU&ta  391 

That     while     thou    didst     within     the    walles 

remayne,  20 

It  should  be  plagued  still  with  penurie  : 
Wherfore  departe,  and  thinke  not  that  I  speake 
These  wofull  wordes  for  hate  I  beare  to  thee, 
But  for  the  weale  of  this  afflicted  realme. 

Oedipus.   O  foule  accursed  fate,  that  hast  me 

bredde  25 

To  beare  the  burthen  of  the  miserie 
Of  this  colde   deathe,  which  we  accompt    for 

life! 
Before  my  birth  my  father  understoode 
I  should  him  slea,  and  scarcely  was  I  borne. 
When  he  me  made  a  pray  for  savage  beastes.       30 
But  what  ?    I  slew  him  yet,  then    caught   the 

crowne. 
And  last  of  all  defilde  my  mothers  bedde, 
By  whom  I  have  this  wicked  offspring  got : 
And  to  this  heinous  crime  and  filthy  facte 
The  heavens  have  from  highe  enforced  me,  35 

Agaynst  whose  doome  no  counsell  can  prevayle. 
Thus  hate  I  now  my  life  ;   and  last  of  all, 
Lo  !   by  the  newes  of  this  so  cruell  death 
Of  bothe  my  sonnes  and  deare  beloved  wife, 
Mine  angrie  constellation  me  commaundes  40 

Withouten  eyes  to  wander  in  mine  age, 
When   these    my    weery,   weake,  and    crooked 

limmes 

26   of.    Altered  in  MS.  to  and. 


392  ^iocasfta  [actv. 

E  a  tal  peccato  scellerato  ed  empio 

Sforzommi  il  Ciel;   contra  di  cui  non  giova 

Consiglio  umano,  e  m'  ha  condotto  a  tale, 

Ch'  io  porto  odio  a  me  stesso.    Or  finalmente,    40 

Dopo  r  aver  inteso  ambe  le  morti 

De'  miei  figliuoli,  e  della  moglie,  vuole 

La  mia  Stella  nimica  che,  senz'  occhi, 

E  in  estrema  vecchiezza,  errando  io  vada, 

Quando  le  membra  mie  deboli  e  stanche  45 

Han  del  riposo  lor  maggior  bisogno. 

O  Creonte  crudel,  perche  m'  uccidi  ? 

Che  m'  uccidi,  crudel,  cacciando  fuori 

Me  della  mia  Citta.    Ma  non  per  questo 

Avverra  ch'  io  ti  preghi,  e  ch'  io  m'  inchini  50 

Nanzi  a'  tuoi  piedi.    Tolgami  fortuna 

Cio  ch'  ella  puote  ;   non  sara  giammai 

Ch'  ella  mi  possa  tor  1'  animo  invitto 

Ch'  ebbi  in  tutti  i  miei  di,  tal  ch'  io  discenda 

Per  timidezza  ad  alcun  atto  vile  :  55 

Fa  quel  che  puoi ;   io  saro  sempre  Edipo. 

Cre,  Ben  parli,  Edipo,  e  ti  consiglio  anch'  io 
A  serbar  1'  alterezza  che  fu  sempre 
Natural  del  tuo  cuore  :   e  ti  fo  certo 
Che,  se  baciasti  ben  queste  ginocchia,  60 

Et  adoprasti  ogni  preghiera  meco ; 
Non  per  questo  concederti  vorrei 
Ch'  un'  ora  sola  rimanessi  in  Tebe. 
Or  fate  voi,  Teban,  debite  esequie 


Scene  V]  3|OCa0ta  393 

Have  greatest  neede  to  crave  their  quiet  rest. 

O  cruell  Creon,  wilt  thou  slea  me  so, 

For  cruelly  thou  doste  but  murther  me,  45 

Out  of  my  kingdome  now  to  chase  me  thus : 

Yet  can  I  not  with  humble  minde  beseeche 

Thy  curtesie,  ne  fall  before  thy  feete. 

Let  fortune  take  from  me  these  worldly  giftes, 

She  can  not  conquere  this  courageous  heart,         50 

That  never  yet  could  well  be  overcome. 

To  force  me  yeelde  for  feare  to  villanie  : 

Do  what  thou  canst :   I  will  be  Oedipus. 

Cre.   So  hast  thou  reason,  Oedipus,  to  say, 
And  for  my  parte  I  would  thee  counsell  eke         55 
Still  to  maynteine  the  highe  and  hawtie  minde, 
That  hath  bene  ever  in  thy  noble  heart : 
For  this  be   sure  :  if  thou  wouldst  kisse  these 

knees. 
And  practise  eke  by  prayer  to  prevayle. 
No  pitie  coulde  persuade  me  to  consent  60 

That  thou  remayne  one  onely  houre  in  Thebes. 
And  nowe  prepare,  you  worthie  citizens, 
The  funeralls  that  duely  doe  pertayne 
Unto  the  Queene  and  to  Eteocles, 
And  eke  for  them  provide  their  stately  tombes.     65 
But  Pollynice,  as  common  enimie 
Unto  his  countrey,  carrie  foorth  his  corps 
Out  of  the  walles,  ne  none  so  hardie  be 
57  e'ver.    Qi,  even. 


394  €>iocafi?ta  [actv. 

Alia  Reina,  ad  Eteocle ;  e  a  quelli  65 

Preparate  oggimai  la  sepoltura. 

Ma  Polinice,  siccome  nimico 

Delia  patria,  portate  fuor  di  Tebe  : 

Ne  alcuno  sia  che  seppellirlo  ardisca; 

Che  per  pena  n'  avra  tosto  la  morte.  70 

Ma  fuor  della  Citta  resti  insepolto, 

Senza  onor,  senza  pianto,  esca  agli  uccelli. 

Tu,  lasciando  le  lagrime,  va  dentro, 

Antigone ;  e  disponti  all'  allegrezza 

Delle  tue  nozze  :   perocche  domani  75 

Sarai  consorte  al  mio  figlluolo  Emone. 

Antigone.   Padre,  noi  siamo   in  gran    miserie 
involti. 
E  veramente  assai  piu  piango  voi, 
Ch'  io  non  fo  questi  morti :  non  che  1'  uno 
Mai  sia  forse  leggiero,  e  1'  altro  grave ;  80 

Ma  perche  voi,  voi  sol  tutte  avanzate 
Le  miserie  del  mondo  ad  una  ad  una. 
Ma  voi,  novo  Signor,  per  qual  cagione 
Sbandite  il  padre  mio  del  proprio  seggio  ? 
Perche  volete  ancor  che  questo  afflitto  85 

Corpo  deir  innocente  mio  fratello 
Resti  privo,  meschin,  di  sepoltura  ? 

Cre.  Tal  legge  non  e  mia,   ma  d'  Eteocle. 

Jnt.   Ei  fu  crudel,  e  voi  a  obbedirlo  sciocco. 

Cre.   Obbedir  a  chi  regge  e  cosa  indegna  ?         90 

Ant.  Indegna,  quando  il   suo  comando  e  in- 
giusto. 


Scene  V.]  3IOCa0ta  395 

On  peine  of  death  his  bodie  to  engrave, 

But  in  the  fieldes  let  him  unburied  lye,  70 

Without  his  honour  and  without  complaynte. 

An  open  praie  for  savage  beastes  to  spoyle. 

And  thou,  Antigone,  drie  up  thy  teares, 

Plucke  up  thy  sprites,  and  cheere  thy  harmelesse 

hearte 
To  manage  :   for  ere  these  two  dayes  passe,  75 

Thou  shalt  espouse  Hemone,  myne  onely  heire. 
Antigone.    Father,  I  see  us  wrapt   in  endlesse 

woe. 
And  nowe   muche  more  doe   I   your  state  la- 

mente 
Than  these  that  nowe  be  dead,  not  that  I  thinke 
Theyr  greate  missehappes  too  little  to  bewayle,  80 
But  this,  that  you  (you  onely)  doe  surpasse 
All   wretched  wightes   that   in    this   worlde   re- 

mayne. 
But  you,  my  lorde,  why  banishe  you  with  wrong 
My  father  thus  out  of  his  owne  perforce  ? 
And  why  will  you  denye  these  guiltlesse  bones     85 
Of  Polinice  theyr  grave  in  countrey  soile  ? 
Cre.   So  would  not  I,  so  would  Eteocles. 
Jnt.   He  cruel   was,  you    fonde   to   hold   his 

hestes. 
Cre.   Is  then  a  fault    to    doe    a   kings    com- 

maund  ? 
Ant.   When  his  commaunde  is  cruell  and  un- 
just. 90 


396  ^iotusitn  [actv. 

Cre.   Inglusto  e  che  costui  pasca  le  fere  ? 
j^nt.   A  lui  non  si  convien  pena  si  grave. 
Cre.   Delia  patria  non  fu  questi  nimico  ? 
Jnt.   Nemico  fu  chi  1'  avea  spinto  fuori.  95 

Cre.  Non  prese  contra  la  sua  patria  1'  arme  ? 
Jnt.  Non    pecca   chi   acquistar   procaccia  il 

suo. 
Cre.  Egli  mal  grado  tuo  stara  insepolto. 
Jnt.  lo  lo  seppelliro  con  queste  mani. 
Cre.   Presso  di  lui  seppellirai  te  ancora.  loo 

Jnt.  Lode  fia  due  fratei  sepolti  insieme. 
Cre.   Costei  prendete,  e  portatela  dentro. 
j^nt.  Non  pensate  ch'  io  lasci  questo  corpo. 
Cre.   Impedir  non  potrai  quel  ch'  e  ordinato. 
j^nt.   Iniqua  legge  e  il  far  ingiuria  ai  morti.      105 
Cre.  Terra  nol  coprira,  ne  dee  coprirlo. 


Scene  V.]  31OCa0ta  397 

Cre.   Is  it  unjust  that  he  unburied  be  ? 
Jnt.   He  not  deserv'd  so  cruel  punishment. 
Cre.   He  was  his  countreys  cruell  enimie. 
Jnt.   Or  else  was  he  that  helde  him  from  his 

right. 
Cre.  Bare  he   not   armes   against   his  native 

land  ?  95 

Jnt.   OfFendeth  he  that  sekes  to  winne  his 

owne  ? 
Cre.   In  spite  of  thee  he  shall  unburied  be. 
Jnt.   In  spite  of  thee  these  hands  shall  burie 

him. 
Cre.  And    with    him    eke    then   will   I    burie 

thee. 
Jnt.  So   graunt   the  gods    I   get   none  other 

grave  loo 

Then  with  my  Polinices  deare  to  rest. 

Cre.   Go,    sirs,    lay    holde    on    hir,   and    take 

her  in. 
Jnt.   I  will  not  leave  this  corps  unburied. 

\_Pointing  to  the  body  of  Polynices.'\ 
Cre.   Canst  thou  undoe  the  thing  that   is  de- 
creed ? 
Jnt.   A    wicked    foule   decree   to    wrong  the 

dead !  105 

Cre.  The  ground  ne  shall    ne  ought  to  cover 

him. 

97,  98    In  spite  of.    MS.  and  Qi,  Perforce  to. 


398  ^ioca^ta  [actv. 

Ant.  lo  vi  prego,  Creonte,  per  V  amore  ... 

Cre,  Non  gioveranno  a  te  lusinghe  e  preghi. 

Ant.   Che  portaste  a  Giocasta,  mentre  visse, 

Cre.   Sono  le  tue  parole  al  vento  sparse.  no 

Ant.   Mi  concediate  ch'  io  lo  lavi  almeno. 

Cre.  Questo  giusto  non  e  ch'  io  ti  conceda. 

Ant,   Carissimo  fratel,  1'  empio  e  crudele 
Non  potra  far  con  le  sue  ingiuste  forze 
Ch'  io  non  ti  baci ;  e  questa  cara  faccia,  115 

E  queste  piaghe  col  mio  pianto  lavi. 

Cre.   Deh,  semplice  fanciulla,  e  veramente 
Sciocca,  non  apportar  con  questi  pianti 
Tristo  e  misero  augurio  alle  tue  nozze. 

Ant.  Viva  non  saro  mai  moglie  di  Emone.       120 

Cre.   Ricusi  di  esser  moglie  al  mio  figliuolo  ? 

Ant.  Non  voglio  esser  di  lui,  ne  d'  altri  moglie. 

Cre,  Faro  che  ci  sarai,  vogli,  o  non  vogli. 

Ant,  Ti  pentirai  d'  avermi  usato  forza. 

Ill  concediate.   O,  concedete. 


Scene  v.]  3l0CaS?ta  399 

Ant.   Creon,  yet  I  beseche  thee  for  the  love  — 
Cre.   Away,  I  say,  thy  prayers  not  prevaile. 
Ant.  That   thou   didst   beare   Jocasta   in    hir 

life  — 
Cre.  Thou  dost  but  waste  thy  words  amid 

the  wind.  no 

Ant.  Yet    graunt    me    leave    to    washe    his 

wounded  corps. 
Cre.  It  can  not  be  that  I  should  graunt  thee  so. 
Ant.  O  my  deare  Polinice,  this  tirant  yet 
With  all  his  wrongfull  force  can  not  ^^^  sheweth 

fordoe,  the  fmtes  of 

But   I   will   kisse    these   colde    pale  true  kyndly 

lippes  of  thine. 
And  washe  thy  wounds  with  my  waymenting 
teares. 
Cre.   O   simple  wench,  O  fonde  and  foolishe 
girle. 
Beware,  beware,  thy  teares  do  not  foretell 
Some  signe  of  hard  mishap  unto  thy  manage. 
Ant.   No,  no,  for  Hemone  will  I  never  wed.  120 
Cre.   Dost   thou    refuse   the    mariage  of   my 

Sonne  ? 
Ant.   I  will  nor  him  nor  any  other  wed. 
Cre.  Against  thy  will  then  must  I   thee  con- 
straint 
Ant.   If  thou  me  force,  I    sweare  thou  shalt 
repent. 


400  ^ioca0ta  [act  v. 

Cre.  E  che  potrai  tu  far,  ond*  io  mi  penta  ?     125 

Ant.   Con  un  coltel  recidero  quel  nodo. 

Cre.   Pazza  sarai,  se  te  medesma  uccidi. 

Jnt.  Io  seguiro  lo  stil  d'  alcune  accorte. 

Cre.  T'  intendero,  se  tu  piu  chiaro  parli. 

Ant.  U  uccidero  con  questa  mano  ardita.        130 

Cre.  Temeraria,  e  crudel,  ardisci  questo  ? 

Ant.   Perche  non  debbo  ardir  si  bella  impresa  ? 

Cre.  A  che  fin,  pazza,  queste  nozze  sprezzi  ? 

Ant.   Per  seguir  nell'  esilio  il  padre  mio. 

Cre.  Quel  ch'  in  altri  e  grandezza  e  in  te 

pazzia.  135 

Ant.   Morronne  ancor,  quando  ne  fia  bisogno. 
Cre.   Partiti  pria  che  '1  mio  figliuolo  ancidi ; 
Esci,  mostro  infernal,  della  Cittade. 


Scene  v.]  3l0Ca6"ta  4°^ 

Cre.   What,  canst  thou   cause  that  I   should 

once  repent  ?  125 

Jnt.    With  bloudy  knife  I  can  this   knot  un- 

knit. 
Cre.  And  what  a  foole  were  thou  to  kill  thy 

selfe  ! 
Jnt.  I    will    ensue    some    worthie    womans 

steppes. 
Cre.   Speake  out,  Antigone,  that  I  may  heare. 
Ant.   This  hardie  hande  shall  soone   dispatch 

his  life.  130 

Cre.  O   simple   foole,  and   darste   thou  be  so 

bolde  ? 
Jnt.   Why  should  I   dread  to  do   so  doughtie 

deed  ? 
Cre.  And    wherfore    dost   thou   wedlocke   so 

despise  ? 
Ant.   In  cruel  exile  for  to  folow  him  (^pointing 

to  Oedipus). 
Cre.   What  others  might  beseeme,  beseemes 

not  thee.  135 

Ant.   If  neede  require,  with  him  eke  will  I  die. 
Cre.   Departe,  departe,  and   with    thy  father 

die. 
Rather  than  kill  my  childe  with  bloudie  knife  : 
Go,  hellish  monster,  go  out  of  the  towne. 

Creon  exit. 

130  his.    MS.,  my.  134  pointing  to  Oedipus.    MS.  omits. 

Creon  exit.    MS.  omits. 


402  ^ioca0ta  [act  v. 

Edip,  lo  lodo,  figlia,  questa  tua  fortezza. 

Ant.  Non  sara  mai  ch'  accompagnata  i'  sia,    140 
E  voi,  padre,  n'  andiate  errando  solo. 

Edip.   Lasciami  sol  nelle  mie  pene,  figlia: 
E  tu,  mentre  che  puoi,  resta  felice. 

Ant.   E  chi  saria  de'  vostri  passi  guida, 
Misero  vecchio,  e  delle  luci  privo  ?  145 

Edip.  N'  andro,  figliuola,  ove  vorra  la  sorte, 
Riposando  il  meschin  corpo  dolente 
Dovunque  gli  fara  coperta  il  Cielo  : 
Che,  in  cambio  di  palagi  e  ricchi  letti, 
Le  selve,  le  spelunche,  e  gli  antri  oscuri,  150 

Misero  vecchio,  mi  daranno  albergo. 

Jnt.  Ahi,  dove  e,  padre  mio,  la  gloria  vostra  ? 

Edip.  Un  di  mi  fe'  felice,  un  di  m'  ha  ucciso. 

Jnt.   Dunque  io  saro  de'  vostri  mali  a  parte. 


Scene  V.]  3(IOCa0ta  403 

Oed.   Daughter,  I  must  commende  thy  noble 

heart.  ,40 

Ant.   Father,    I    will    not    live    in         tu   j  ^    r 

'  The  duty  of 

COmpanie,  a  childe  truly 

And  you  alone  wander  in  wildernesse.         perfourmed. 
Oed.   O  yes,  deare  daughter,  leave  thou  me 
alone 
Amid  my  plagues  :   be  merrie  while  thou  maist. 
Ant.  And  who  shal  guide  these  aged  feete  of 
yours,  145 

That  banisht  bene,  in  blinde  necessite  ? 

Oed.   I  will  endure,  as  fatal  lot  me  drives. 
Resting  these  crooked  sorie  sides  of  mine. 
Where  so  the  heavens  shall  lend  me  harborough  : 
And  in  exchange  of  rich  and  stately  towers  150 

The    woodes,  the  wildernesse,  the    darkesome 

dennes 
Shall  be  the  bowre  of  mine  unhappie  bones. 
Ant.   O    father,   now    where    is    your    glorie 

gone  ? 
Oed.  "  One   happie   day   did  raise  me   to  re- 
noune. 
One  haplesse  day  hath  throwne  mine  honour 

doune."  155 

Ant.   Yet  will    I   beare  a   part  of  your  mis- 
happes. 

141  not  li've.    MS.  and  Qi,  never  come.  The  .    .   .  per- 

fourmed.   Q3  omits. 
147  Oed.    MS.  omits. 


404  €>tOtaS?ta  [Act  v. 

Edip.  Non   conven,  send'  io   vecchio,  e   tu 

fanciulla.  155 

Jnt.  Ceda,  padre,  V  onor  alia  pietate. 

Edip.   Ove  e  la  madre  tua?  fa  ch'  io  la  tocchi : 
Fa  che  si  renda  manifesto  al  tatto 
II  mal  che  gli  occhi  [ora]  veder  non  ponno. 

Jnt.  Qui,   padre,   e   il    corpo :    qui   la   man 
ponete.  160 

Edip.   O  madre,  o  moglie,  misera  egualmente, 
Addolorata  madre, 
Addolorata  moglie ; 
Oime,  volesse  Dio,  volesse  Iddio 
Non  fossi  stata  mai  moglie,  ne  madre.  165 

Ma  dove  giace,  o  figlia, 
II  miserabil  corpo 
Deir  uno  e  1'  altro  mio 
Infelice  figliuolo  ? 

Jnt.   Qui  giacen   morti  V  un  dell'  altro  ap- 
presso.  170 

Edip.  Stendi  questa  mia  man,  stendila,  figlia, 
Sopra  i  lor  visi. 

Jnt.  Voi  toccate,  padre, 

I  vostri  figli. 

Edip.  O  cari  corpi,  cari 

Al  vostro  padre,  e  parimente  a  lui 
Misero,  corpi  miseri  e  infelici.  17S 

i^^  ora.   O,  D,  miei.    ib'j  II miserabil  corpo.    O,  I  miserabil  corpi. 


Scene  V.]  3IOCa0ta  405 

Oed.   That    sitteth    not    amid     thy    pleasant 

yeares. 
Ant.  "  Deare  father,  yes,  let  youth  give  place 

to  age." 
Oed.   Where   is   thy   mother  ?    let   me  touch 
hir  face. 
That   with  these  handes   I    may  yet   feele  the 

harme  i6o 

That  these  blinde  eyes  forbid  me  to  beholde. 
Ant.   Here,  father,  here   hir   corps,  here    put 

your  hande. 
Oed.   O    wife,    O    mother,    O    both   wo  full 
names, 
O  wofull  mother,  and  O  wofull  wyfe, 
O  woulde  to  God,  alas,  O  would  to  God,  165 

Thou  nere  had  bene  my  mother  nor  my  wyfe  ! 
But  where  lye  nowe  the  paled  bodies  two 
Of  myne  unluckie  sonnes,  oh,  where  be  they  ? 
Ant.   Lo,   here   they   lye,  one    by    an    other, 

deade. 
Oed.  Stretch   out   this  hand,  dere   daughter, 
stretch  this  hande  170 

Upon  their  faces. 

Ant.   Loe,  father,  here  !   lo,  nowe  you  touche 

them  both. 
Oed.   O     bodies     deare,     O    bodies     dearely 
boughte 
Unto  your  father,  bought  with  high  missehap. 

157  iitteth.    Q3,  fitteth. 


4o6  ^ioca0ta  [act  v. 

Ant.   O  carissimo  a  me  nome  del  mio 
Carissimo  fratello  Polinice. 
Deh,  perche  non  poss'  io  con  la  mia  morte 
Impetrar  da  Creonte 
Al  tuo  misero  corpo  sepoltura  ?  i8o 

Edip,  Or  r  oracol  d'  Apollo  ha,  figlia,  efFetto. 

Ant.   Prediss'     ei     nuovi     affanni     ai    nostri 
afFanni  ? 

Edip.   Ch'  Atene  esser  dovea  fin  di  mia  vita. 
Or  poiche  tu  desideri,  figliuola, 
Nel  duro  esilio  mio  d'  esser  compagna,  185 

Porgi  la  cara  man,  e  andiamo  insieme. 

Ant.  Amato  padre,  io  v'  accompagno  e  guido, 
Debil  sostegno,  e  scorta, 
Per  la  dubbiosa  strada  a  gran  perigli. 

Edip.  Al  misero  sarai  misera  guida.  190 

Ant.   Certo  da  questa  parte  eguale  al  padre. 

Edip.   Dove  porro  questo  tremante  piede  ? 
Porgimi,  ahi  lasso,  porgimi  il  bastone, 
Sopra  del  quale  io  mi  sostenga  alquanto. 

Ant.   Qui,  padre,  qui  1'  antico  pie  ponete.        i^^ 

Edip.  Altri  io  non  so  incolpar  del  danno  mio, 
Che  '1  mio  destin  crudele  : 
Tu  solo  sei  cagion  ch'  or  cieco,  e  vecchio 


Scene  V.]  3IOCa0ta  A-OJ 

Ant.   O  lovely  name  of  my  deare  Pollinice,     175 
Why  can  I  not  of  cruell  Creon  crave, 
Ne  with  my  death  nowe  purchase  thee  a  grave  ? 

Odd.   Nowe  commes  Apollos  oracle  to  passe, 
That  I  in  Athens  towne  should  end  my  dayes  : 
And  since  thou  doest,  O  daughter  myne,  desire  180 
In  this  exile  to  be  my  wofull  mate, 
Lende  mee  thv  hande,  and  let  us  goe  togither. 

Jnt.   Loe,  here  all   prest,  my   deare   beloved 
father, 
A  feeble  guyde  and  eke  a  simple  scowte 
To  passe  the  perills  in  a  doubtfull  wave!  185 

Oed.   Unto  the  wretched  be  a  wretched  guyde. 

Ant.   In  this  all  onely  equall  to  my  father. 

Oed.   And  where  shall  I  sette  foorth  my  trem- 
bling feete  ? 
O  reache  mee  yet  some  surer  stafFe,  to  steye 
My  staggryng  pace    amidde    these    wayes    un- 
knowns 190 

Jnt.   Here,  father,  here,  and   here   set   forth 
your  feete.  „,      .     , 

-^  She  giveth 

Oed.   Nowe  can  I  blame  none  other         him  a  staffe, 
for  my  harmes  ^"^  stayeth 

But  secrete  spight  of  foredecreed  fate  :         ^^^^ 
Thou   arte  the   cause,   that    crooked, 
olde  and  blynde, 

185    in  a.    MS.,  of  our. 
187  all  onely.    Q3,  alonly. 


4o8  ^iocas?ta  [act  v. 

Me  ne  vado  lontan  della  mia  terra  ; 

E  pato  quel  che  non  dovrei  patire.  200 

Ant.   Padre  mio,  la  giustizia  non  riguarda 
Con  diritt'  occhio  i  miseri  ;   e  non  suole 
Gastigar  le  pazzie  di  chi  comanda. 

Edip.   Misero  me,  quanto  mutato  io  sono 
Da  quel  ch'  io  fui.    Ben  son,  ben  sono  Edipo,    205 
Che  trionfo  d'  alta  vittoria  in  Tebe  ; 
Gia  temuto  e  onorato  :   or  (quando  place 
Alia  mia  Stella)  disprezzato,  e  posto 
Nel  fondo,  oime,  delle  miserie  umane, 
Tal  che  del  primo  Edipo  in  me  non  resta  210 

Altro  che  '1  nome,  e  questa  effigie  sola 
Ch'  assai  piu  tosto  s'  assomiglia  ad  ombra, 
Ch'  forma  d'  uomo. 

Ant.  O  caro  padre,  omai 

Ponete  nell'  obblio  la  rimembranza 
Delia  passata  a  voi  felice  vita  ;  215 

Che  ricordarsi  il  ben  doppia  la  noia ; 
E  sostenete  le  presenti  pene  ; 
Perche  pazienza  alleggerisce  il  male. 
Ecco,  ch'  io  vengo  per  morir  con  voi, 
Non  gia  come  real  figlia,  ma  come  220 


II 


Scene  V.]  3l0CaS^ta  4O9 

I  am  exilde  farre  from  my  countrey  soyle,  195 

And  suffer  dole  that  I  ought  not  endure. 

Ant.  "  O  father,  father,  Justice  lyes  on         justice 

sleepe,  sleepeth. 

Ne  doth  regarde  the  wrongs  of  wretchednesse, 
Ne  princes  swelling  pryde  it  doth  redresse." 
Oed.   O   careful!   caytife,  howe  am  I   nowe 
changd  200 

From  that  I  was  !    I  am  that  Oedipus  .    ,       . 

T-u  u    1  L    J        •  u  •  ^  Slasse  for 

1  hat  wnylome  had  triumphant    vie-         brittei  beude 
torie  ^"'^  ^°^  \\isx^j 

And  was  bothe  dread  and  honored  eke 

in  Thebes  \ 
But  nowe  (so  pleaseth  you,  my  froward-e  starres) 
Downe  headlong  hurlde  in  depth  of  myserie,      205 
So  that  remaynes  of  Oedipus  no  more, 
As  nowe  in  mee,  but  even  the  naked  name, 
And  lo  !  this  image  that  resembles  more 
Shadowes  of  death  than  shape  of  Oedipus. 
Ant.   O   father,  nowe  forgette  the  pleasaunt 

dayes  210 

And  happie  lyfe  that  you  did  whvlom  leade. 
The  muse  whereof  redoubleth  but  you  [r]  griefe  : 
Susteyne  the  smarte  of  these  your  present  paynes 
With  pacience,  that  best  may  you  preser\T. 
Lo  !  where  I  come  to  live  and  die  with  you,       215 
Not  (as  sometymes)  the  daughter  of  a  king, 

212  your.    So  in  MS.,  ^i,  Q3.    Q2,  you. 


410  ^iocas^ta  [act  v. 

Abbietta  serva,  povera,  e  infelice ; 
Acciocche,  avendo  a  sopportar  il  peso 
Delia  miseria  si  fedel  compagna, 

I  tormenti  di  voi  siano  men  gravl. 

Edip,   O  sola  del  mio  mal  dolce  conforto.        225 
Jnt.   Ogni  somma  pieta  debita  e  a  voi : 

Cosi  volesse  Iddio 

Che  seppellir  potessi 

II  corpo,  oime,  di  Polinice  mio  : 

Ma  cio  non  posso  :   e  '1  non  poter  m'  accresce  230 
Doppia  pena  e  martire. 

Edip.   Questo  onesto  desio  fallo  sentire 
Alle  compagne  tue  :   forse  ch'  alcuna, 
Mossa  dalla  pieta,  cara  figliuola, 
Si  condurra  per  far  si  degno  effetto.  235 

Jnt.   O  padre  mio,  nella  fortuna  avversa 
Mal  si  trova  compagno. 

Edip.   Or     drizziamo    il     cammin,    figliuola, 
adunque 
Verso  i  piu  aspri  e  piu  sassosi  Monti, 
Dove  vestigio  uman  non  si  dimostri ;  240 

Accio  felici  chi  ci  vide  un  tempo 
Or  non  ci  vegga  miseri  e  mendichi. 

Jnt.   Patria,  io   men    vado    d'  ogni    mio   ben 
priva 
Nel  piu  leggiadro  fior  de'  miei  verd'  anni ; 


Scene  v.]  3|OCa0ta  41^ 

But  as  an  abject  nowe  in  povertie, 

That  you,  by  presence  of  suche  faithfull  guide, 

May  better  beare  the  wrecke  of  miserie. 

Oed.   O  onely  comforte  of  my  cruell  happe.  220 
Ant.  Your  daughters  pitie  is  but  due  to  you  : 
Woulde  God  I  might  as  well  ingrave  the  corps 
Of  mv  deare  Pollinice,  but  I  ne  maye  ; 
And  that  I  can  not,  doubleth  all  my  dole. 

Oed.   This  thy  desire,  that  is   both   good  and 
juste,  225 

Imparte  to  some  that  be  thy  trustie  frendes 
Who,    movde    with    pitie,    maye    procure    the 
same. 
Ant.   "  Beleeve   me,  father,  when   dame   for- 
tune frownes. 
Be  fewe  that  fynde  trustie  companions." 

Oed.   And  of  those    fewe,  yet  one  of  those 
am  I  :  230 

Wherefore   goe   we  nowe,  daughter,  leade  the 

waye 
Into  the  stonie  rockes  and  highest  hilles. 
Where    fewest    trackes    of   steppings    may    be 

spyde. 
"  Who  once  hath  sit  in  chaire  of  dignitie 
May  shame  to  shewe  himself  in  miserie."  235 

Ant.   From  thee,  O  countrey,  am   I   forst  to 
parte. 
Despoiled  thus  in  flower  of  my  youth, 


412  €>ioca0ta  Iactv. 

E  tu  resti  in  poter  del  mio  nimico.  245 

Ma  ben  io  raccomando,  o  Donne,  a  voi 
La  sfortunata  mia  sorella  Ismene. 

Edip.   Cari  miei  Cittadini,  ecco  che  '1  vostro 
Signer,  e  Re,  che  alia  Citta  di  Tebe 
Rese  quiete,  e  securezza,  e  pace ;  250 

Or,  come  voi  vedete,  appresso  tutti 
Negletto  e  vile,  e  in  rozzi  panni  involto, 
Scacciato  del  terren  dov'  egli  nacque, 
Prende  (merce  del  vostro  empio  Tiranno) 
Povero  peregrin  esilio  eterno.  255 

Ma  perche  piango,  e  mi  lamento  in  darno  ? 
Conven  ch'  ogni  mortal  sofFra  e  patisca 
Tutto  quel  che  qua  giu  destina  il  Cielo. 

CORO. 

Con  r  esempio  d'  Edipo 

Impari  ognun  che  regge. 

Come  cangia  Fortuna  ordine,  e  stile  ; 

Tal  che  '1  basso  et  umile 

Siede  in  alto  sovente,  5 

E  colui  che  superbo 

Ebbe  gia  signoria  di  molta  gente 

Spesso  si  trova  in  stato  aspro  et  acerbo. 

255  peregrin.    O,  pellegrino. 


Chorus]  31OCa0ta  4^3 

And  yet  I  leave  within  my  enimies  rule 
Ismene,  my  infortunate  sister. 

Oed.   Deare  citizens,  beholde  !  your  ^  mirrour 

Lord  and  King,  for  magis- 

That  Thebes  set  in  quiet  government,  '''^^"' 

Now  as  you  see,  neglected  of  you  all. 
And  in  these  ragged  ruthfull  weedes  bewrapt, 
Ychased  from  his  native  countrey  soyle, 
Betakes  himself  (for  so  this  tirant  will)  245 

To  everlasting  banishment  :   but  why 
Do  I  lament  my  lucklesse  lot  in  vaine  ? 
"  Since  everv  man  must  beare  with  quiet  minde 
The   fate  that   heavens   have  earst  to  him  as- 

signde." 

Chorus. 

Example  here,  loe  !  take  by  Oedipus, 

You  kings  and  princes  in  prosperitie, 

And  every  one  that  is  desirous 

To  sway  the  seate  of  worldlie  dignitie, 

How  fickle  tis  to  trust  in  Fortunes  whele  :  5 

For  him  whome  now  she  hoyseth  up  on  hie, 

If  so  he  chaunce  on  any  side  to  reele. 

She  hurles  him  downe  in  twinkling  of  an  eye  : 

And  him  againe,  that  grovleth  nowe  on  ground. 

And  lieth  lowe  in  dungeon  of  dispaire,  10 

Hir  whirling  wheele  can  heave  up  at  a  bounde, 

5  t'u.    MS.  and  Qi,  is. 


414  ^iocasta  [act  v. 

Onde,  siccome  di  splendor  al  Sole 

Cede  la  bianca  Luna,  ,o 

Cosi  ingegno  e  virtu  cede  a  Fortuna, 


Chorus.]  '^OtU^tU  415 

And  place  aloft  in  stay  of  statelie  chaire. 

As  from  the  sunne  the  moone  withdrawes  hir 

face, 
So    might    of  man    doth  yeelde   dame   Fortune 

place. 


Finis  Actus  quinti.    Done  by  G.  Gascoigne. 

Done  by  G.  Gascoigne.    Qi  omits. 


Epilogus 


Lo  here,  the  fruit  of  high-aspiring  minde, 
Who   weenes    to    mount    above    the    mooving 

skies  ! 
Lo,  here  the  trap  that  titles  proud  do  finde  ! 
See,  ruine  growes  when  most  we  reach  to  rise  : 
Sweete  is  the  name,  and  statelie  is  the  raigne 
Of  kinglie  rule  and  swey  of  royall  seate, 
But  bitter  is  the  tast  of  princes  gaine. 
When  climbing  heades  do  hunte  for  to  be  great. 
Who  would  forecast  the  banke  of  restlesse  toyle, 
Ambitious  wightes  do  freight  their  brestes  with- 

all. 
The  growing  cares,  the  feares  of  dreadfull  foyle. 
To  yll  successe  that  on  such  flightes  doth  fall. 
He  would  not  streyne  his  practise  to  atchieve 
The  largest  limits  of  the  mightiest  states. 
But  oh,  what  fansies  sweete  do  still  relieve 
The  hungrie  humor  of  these  swelling  hates  ! 
What  poyson  sweet  inflameth  high  desire  ! 
Howe    soone    the    hautie    heart    is    pufft   with 

pride  ! 
Howe  soone  is  thirst  of  sceptre  set  on  fire  ! 
Howe    soone    in   rising   mindes   doth  mischief 

slide  ! 

izToyll.    MS.  andQi,TheeviU.  doth.    MS.  and  Qi,  do. 


epilogus.]  3Iocafi>ta  417 

What  bloudie  sturres  doth  glut  of  honor  breede  ! 
Thambitious  sonne  doth  oft  surpresse  his  sire  : 
Where    natures    power    unfained    love    should 

spread, 
There  malice  raignes  and  reacheth  to  be  higher. 
O  blinde  unbridled  search  of  sovereintie,  25 

O  tickle  traine  of  evill  attayned  state, 
O  fonde  desire  of  princelie  dignitie  ! 
Who  climbes  too   soone,  he  ofte  repentes  too 

late. 
The  golden  meane  the  happie  doth  suffise. 
They  leade  the  posting  day  in  rare  delight,  30 

They  fill,  not  feede,  their  uncontented  eyes. 
They  reape  such  rest  as  doth  beguile  the  [njight. 
They  not  envie  the  pompe  of  haughtie  traine, 
Ne  dreade  the  dinte  of  proude  usurping  swoorde. 
But,  plaste  alowe,  more  sugred  joyes  attaine,         35 
Than  swaye  of  loftie  scepter  can  afoorde. 
Cease  to  aspire,  then,  cease  to  soare  so  hie. 
And    shunne    the    plague    that    pierceth    noble 

breastes. 
To  glittring  courtes  what  fondnesse  is  to  flie. 
When  better  state  in  baser  towers  rests  !  40 

Finis  Epilogi.    Done  by  Chr.  Te  her  ton. 

21  breede.    Q3,  yelde.  26  tickle.    MS.,  fickle. 

32  night.    So  in  MS.  and  Q3.    Qi,  Q2,  might. 

33  traine.    MS.  and  Qi,  reigne. 


41 8  jl^ote 

Note,  Reader,  that  there  were  in  Thebes 
fowre  principall  gates,  wherof  the  chief  and 
most  commonly  used  were  the  gates  called  Elec- 
tras  and  the  gates  Homoloydes.  Thys  I  have 
thought  good  to  explane ;  as  also  certen  words  5 
which  are  not  common  in  use  are  noted  and 
expounded  in  the  margent.  I  did  begin  those 
notes  at  request  of  a  gentlewoman  who  under- 
stode  not  poetycall  words  or  termes.  I  trust 
those  and  the  rest  of  my  notes  throughout  the  10 
booke  shall  not  be  hurtfull  to  any  reader. 

Note  .   .   .   reader.    Not  in  MS.  or  Qi. 

3  called.    Q3  omits.  4  have.    Q3  omits. 


i^otesi  to  ^pcam 

Popularity  of  the  Phoenissae.    The  reasons  for  the 

popularity  of  the  Phoenissae  and  transcripts  from  it  are  indicated  by 
Paley  in  the  Introduction  to  his  edition  of  the  Greek  play  (1879)  • 
"This  play  (the  longest  extant)  was  very  popular  in  the  later 
Greek  schools.  Its  varied  action,  chivalrous  descriptions,  and 
double  messenger's  narrative,  first  of  the  general  fight  between  the 
contending  armies,  secondly  of  the  duel  between  the  brothers  and 
the  suicide  of  Jocasta,  give  a  sustained  interest  to  a  piece  which 
extends  to  nearly  twice  the  length  of  the  corresponding  Aeschylean 
drama.  Besides  the  above  claims  to  our  attention,  the  play  fur- 
nishes us  with  a  good  example  of  the  poet's  fondness  for  rhetorical 
pleading,  in  a  legal  and  sophistical  exposition  of  the  rights  of  the 
rival  brothers  to  the  throne.  The  Phoenissae,  in  fact,  is  overloaded 
with  action.  It  is  like  a  picture  in  which  a  whole  panorama  is  in- 
cluded instead  of  one  definite  object." 

A  more  modern  view  of  the  Phoenissae  will  be  found  in  the  last 
essay  of  A.  W.  Verrall's  Euripides  the  Rationalist. 

Dolce  and  Euripides.  As  will  readily  be  seen  on  compar- 
ing the  Italian  version  with  the  Greek  text  or  an  English  trans- 
lation, Dolce  dealt  freely  with  his  original,  especially  in  the  opening 
of  the  play  and  the  choruses.  But  he  kept  closely  to  the  main  lines 
of  the  action  as  laid  down  by  Euripides  and  his  arrangement  of  the 
episodes,  as  the  following  abstract  of  the  Phoenissae  will  show  : 
Prologue  by  Jocasta,  lines        I—  87 

Paedagogus  and  Antigone,  88-201 

Parade  by  Chorus,  202-260 

Polynices  and  Chorus,  261-300 

Jocasta,  Polynices,  301-415 

Jocasta,  Polynices,  Eteocles,  416-637 

First  stasimon,  638-689 

Creon,  Eteocles,  690-783 

Second  stasimon,  784-833 

Teiresias,  Menoeceus,  Creon,  834-985 


420  jl5otr0 

[Dolce  interpolates  the  Priest's  part  and  ex- 
tends   the     dialogue  between     Menoeceus  and 
Creon.] 
Soliloquy  of  Menoeceus,  985-1018 

[Omitted  by  Dolce] 

Third  stasimon,  10 19-1066 

Messenger,  Jocasta,  1 067- 128  3 

Chorus,  1284-1309 

Creon,  Messenger,  1 3 10-1484 

Monody  of  Antigone,  1485-15 37 

CEdipus,  Antigone,  Creon,  15 38-1 766 
Notes  on  Jocasta  in  Harvey's  Gascoigne.     Gabriel 

Harvey,  in  his  copy  of  Gascoigne,  now  in  the  Bodleian  Library, 
has  some  interesting  annotations.  At  the  top  of  the  title-page  of 
Jocasta  he  has  written :  "  The  Mirrour  of  Magistrates.  The 
Tragedy  of  king  Gorboduc  :  penn'd  by  M.  Thomas  Sackvil,  now 
Lord  Buckhurst,  and  M.  Thomas  Norton  :  as  the  same  was 
shew'd  before  the  (^ueenes  Maty,  at  Whitehall,  1561.  by  the 
Gentlemen  of  the  Inner  Temple." 

To  the  motto  at  the  foot  of  the  page,  Fortunatus  Infoelix,  he 
adds  :   "lately  the  posie  of  Sir  Christopher  Hatton. " 

Beneath  the  names  of  the  Interloquutors  he  comments  :  "An 
excellent  Tragedie  :  full  of  many  discreet,  wise  &  deep  considera- 
tions.   Omne  genus  scripti  gravitate  Tragoedia  vincit." 

At  the  bottom  of  the  next  page,  which  contains  part  of  the 
dumme  shewe,  he  writes  :  "  Regis  Tragici  Icon,  Philostrato  digna 
artifice." 

At  the  end  of  the  first  dumme  shewe  he  adds  :  "  Hora  aurea. 
Statii,  et  Senecae  Thebais. " 

I39>  35-  Thebs.  Here,  and  in  1.  183,  obviously  a  mono- 
syllable ;  but  apparently  used  as  a  dissyllable  in  lines  113  and  203 
of  this,  and  1.  35  of  the  following  scene.  Gascoigne  adopts  the 
same  licence  as  Kinwelmersh.  Usually  he  pronounces  the  word  as 
one  syllable  (11,  i,  45,  61,  383,  468,  516,  559,  578,  597,  and 
627  ;  II,  ii,  79)  ;  but  in  11,  ii,  107,  it  is  two  syllables. 

143,  70-71.  "Experience  proves,"  etc.  "The  lines 
marked  with  initial  commas  are  so  distinguished  to  call  the  attention 
to  some  notable  sentiment  or  reflection.  —  "  F.J.  C.  (Francis 
James  Child)  in  Four  Old  Plays. 


il^oteflf  421 

145,  89.  PhocideS  land.  *'  Phocis.  The  early  poets  are 
in  the  habit  of  using  the  genitive  of  classical  proper  names,  or  the 
genitive  slightly  altered,  for  the  nominative.  Thus  Skelton  wutes 
Zenophontei  for  Xenophon,  Eneidos  for  Eneis,  etc."  —  F.  J.  C.  u.  s. 

ISJ.  Scena  2.  In  the  opening  speech  of  this  scene,  Kinvirel- 
mersh  enlarges  upon  his  original,  as  will  be  seen  by  comparison 
with  the  Italian  text. 

161.  Scena  3.  At  the  top  of  the  page,  above  the  stage- 
direction  giving  the  names,  Harvey  has  here  inscribed  :  "  Seneca 
saepe,  the  state  of  princes."  He  evidently  refers  to  the  common- 
places of  the  preceding  speech. 

161,4-5.  To  whom  .  .  .  govenour.  These  lines  are, 
of  course,  inconsistent  with  the  change  made  by  Kinwelmersh  in 
the  stage-direction  just  above,  in  which  he  speaks  of  '*  hir  govern- 
our,"  although  the  Italian  text  says  plainly  "  Bailo  di  Polinice. " 
The  phrase,  "  hir  governour,"  is  repeated  in  the  stage-direction  at 
the  end  of  this  scene.  The  change  may  have  been  made  deliberately, 
for  it  is  supported  by  the  text  of  the  Phoenissae,  from  which  Dolce 
has  departed  more  in  the  opening  than  in  any  other  part  of  the 
play.  It  is  curious  that  the  word  Bailo^  which,  as  Professor  Ma- 
haffy  points  out,  is  the  regular  Venetian  title  for  a  governor  or  tutor, 
did  not  earlier  draw  the  attention  of  critics  to  the  Italian  origin  of 
yocasta. 

167,  71.  To  trappe  him.  This  broken  line  was  perhaps 
suggested  by  the  irregular  metre  of  this  speech  in  the  Italian  text. 
In  Euripides  all  Antigone's  speeches  in  this  scene  are  in  strophic 
measures,  which  Dolce  apparently  attempted  to  present,  in  part  at 
least,  by  varying  the  length  of  his  lines.  The  English  translators 
reduced  all  except  the  choruses  to  blank  verse. 

I75>  173-  It  Standes  not,  &C.  Cf.  Laertes'  speech  to 
Ophelia  [Hamlet  i,  iii)  :  "  Then  weigh  what  loss  your  honor  may 
sustain,  etc."    F.  J.    C.  u.  s. 

177,    181-190.    You    cannot    be  .  .  .  fade    away. 

Here  again,  as  will  be  seen,  the  Italian  original  has  been  extended 
by  the  translator. 

177-83.  Chorus.  It  will  be  noticed  that  the  choruses, 
especially  those  of  Kinwelmersh,  are  more  loosely  translated  than 
the  text. 


422  0Ott$ 

191,  40.  My  feebled  .  .  .  agonie.  My  feet  enfeebled 
with  age  and  suffering. 

195,  79.  mothers  due.  It  is  curious  to  note  how  from  trans- 
lation to  translation  this  passage  has  lost  the  beauty  and  force  of  the 
original.  Readers  of  Greek  should  look  up  the  text  of  the  Phoenissae, 
339-357,  thus  translated  by  Mr.  A.  S.  Way  : 

But  thou,  my  son,  men  say,  hast  made  affiance 
With  strangers  :  children  gotten  in  thine  halls 

Gladden  thee,  yea,  thou  soughtest  strange  alliance  ! 
Son,  on  thy  mother  falls 

Thine  alien  bridal's  curse  to  haunt  her  ever. 

Thee  shall  a  voice  from  Laius'  grave  accuse. 
The  spousal  torch  for  thee  I  kindled  never, 

As  happy  mothers  use; 

Nor  for  thy  bridal  did  Ismenus  bring  thee 

Joy  of  the  bath  ;   nor  at  the  entering-in 
Of  this  thy  bride  did  Theban  maidens  sing  thee. 

A  curse  be  on  that  sin. 

Whether  of  steel's  spell,  strife-lust,  or  thy  father 
It  sprang,  or  whether  revel  of  demons  rose 

In  halls  of  CEdipus  !  —  on  mine  head  gather 
All  tortures  of  these  woes. 

Dolce' s  manner  of  dealing  with  his  original  is  weU  illustrated  in 
this  scene,  and  E.  P.  Coleridge's  translation  (1891)  of  lines  379- 
424  of  the  Phoenissae  is  accordingly  appended.  It  is  represented  by 
lines  1 3 1-2 1 8  of  the  English  and  130-216  of  the  Italian  text  : 

"Joe.  Some  god  with  fell  intent  is  plaguing  the  race  of  CEdipus. 
Thus  it  all  began  ;  I  broke  God's  law  and  bore  a  son,  and  in  an 
evil  hour  married  thy  father  and  thou  wert  born.  But  why  repeat 
these  horrors  ?  What  Heaven  sends  we  have  to  bear.  I  am  afraid 
to  ask  thee  what  I  fain  would,  for  fear  of  wounding  thy  feelings  ; 
yet  I  long  to. 

Pol.  Nay,  question  me,  leave  naught  unsaid  ;  for  thy  will, 
mother,  is  my  pleasure  too. 

Joe.  Well  then,  first  I  ask  thee  what  I  long  to  have  an- 
swered.   What  means  exile  from  one's  country  ?  is  it  a  great  evil  ? 

Pol.    The  greatest  ;   harder  to  bear  than  tell. 

Joe.    What  is  it  like  ?    What  is  it  galls  the  exile  ? 

Pol.     One  thing  most  of  all  ;  he  cannot  speak  his  mind. 


0Ott^  423 

yoc.  This  is  a  slare's  lot  thou  describest,  to  refrain  from  utter- 
ing what  one  thinks. 

Pol.    The  follies  of  his  rulers  must  he  bear. 

yoc.    That  too  is  bitter,  to  join  in  the  folly  of  fools. 

Pol.    Yet  to  gain  our  ends  we  must  submit  against  our  nature. 

yoc.    Hope,  they  say,  is  the  exile's  food. 

Pol.    Aye,  hope  that  looks  so  fair  5   but  she  is  ever  in  the  future. 

yoc.    But  doth  not  time  expose  her  futility  ? 

Pol.    She  hath  a  certain  winsome  charm  in  misfortune. 

yoc.  Whence  hadst  thou  means  to  live,  ere  thy  marriage  found 
it  for  thee  ? 

Po/.  One  while  I  had  enough  for  the  day,  and  then  maybe  I 
had  it  not. 

yoc.     Did  not  thy  father's  friends  and  whilom  guests  assist  thee  ? 

Pol.  Seek  to  be  prosperous  ;  once  let  fortune  lour,  and  the  aid 
supplied  by  friends  is  naught. 

yoc.     Did  not  thy  noble  breeding  exalt  thy  horn  for  thee  ? 

Pol.     Poverty  is  a  curse  ;   breeding  would  not  find  me  food. 

yoc.    Man's  dearest  treasure  then,  it  seems,  is  his  country. 

Pol.    No  words  of  thine  could  tell  how  dear. 

yoc.  How  was  it  thou  didst  go  to  Argos  ?  What  was  thy 
scheme  ? 

Pol.  I  know  not  ;  the  deitv  summoned  me  thither  in  accord- 
ance with  my  destiny. 

yoc.  He  doubtless  had  some  wise  design  ;  but  how  didst  thou 
win  thy  wife  ? 

Pol.    Loxias  had  given  Adrastus  an  oracle. 

yoc.    What  was  it  ?    What  meanest  thou  ?    I  cannot  guess. 

Pol.    That  he  should  wed  his  daughters  to  a  boar  and  a  lion. 

yoc.  What  hadst  thou,  my  son,  to  do  with  the  name  of 
beasts  ? 

Pol.    It  was  night  when  I  reached  the  porch  of  Adrastus. 

yoc.  In  search  of  a  resting-place,  or  wandering  thither  in  thy 
exile  ? 

Pol.    Yes,  I  wandered  thither  ;   and  so  did  another  like  me. 

yoc.    Who  was  he  ?  he  too  it  seems  was  in  evil  plight. 

Pol.    Tydeus,  son  of  CEneus,  was  his  name. 

yoc.    But  why  did  Adrastus  liken  you  to  wild  beasts  } 


424  il^otrs? 

Pol.    Because  we  came  to  blows  about  our  bed. 

yoc.    Was  it  then  that  the  son  of  Talaus  understood  the  oracle  ? 

Pol.    Yes,  and  he  gave  to  us  his  daughters  twain. 

yoc.    Art  thou  blest  or  curst  in  thy  marriage  ? 

Pol.    As  yet  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  it. 

223,  392-93.  Tullyes  opinyon.  Cicero,  De  officHs,  i,  8  : 
Declaravit  id  modo  temeritas  C.  Caesaris,  qui  omnia  jura  divina 
atque  humana  pervertit,  propter  eum,  quern  sibi  ipse  opinionis  errore 
finxerat,  principatum. 

The  Greek  of  Euripides  [PAoenissae,  534),  which  Gascoigne 
here  translates  from  Dolce,  runs  : 

eiirep  yap  aSiKeTv  XP^t  rvpavvlSos  Trepi 

KaWicTTOu  aSLKe'iv. 

Nam  si   violandum  est  jus,  imperii  gratia 

Violandum  est  :   aliis  rebus  pietatem  colas. 

Hos  versus  Suetonius  Julium  Caesarem  semper  in  ore  habuisse 
scribit.  —  Gaspari  Stiblini  Annotationes. 

Gascoigne' s  marginal  note  is  a  little  astray,  in  that  Cicero  does 
not  give  this  maxim  as  his  own  view,  but  merely  ascribes  it  to  Caesar. 

223,  393.  beare  the  buckler  best.  Offer  the  best  de- 
fence or  justification. 

225,  410-    hir,  ambition's. 

227,  415.    Equalitie.    See  note  on  p.  126. 

227,  419.    that  other,  ambition. 

229,  441.   That  compts  a  pompe  .  .  .    command. 

That  takes  pride  in  absolute  rule. 
237,  534-36.    For  well  I  wist  ...  be  callde.  These 

three  lines  are  a  misunderstanding  of  the  original  Italian,  which 
may  be  literally  translated  :  "  The  cautious  general  is  always  supe- 
rior to  the  rash  one  ;  and  you  are  vile,  ignorant,  and  rash  beyond 
every  one  else. ' ' 

239,  545-46.  Good  Gods  ...  to  flight.  Another  mis- 
translation. The  Italian  merely  says  :  "  Alas  !  whoever  saw  any- 
thing more  fierce  ?  ' ' 

255,  56.  cammassado.  Camisado  :  *'  It  is  a  sudden  assault, 
wherein  the  souldiers  doe  were  shirts  over  their  armours,  to  know 
their    owne    company  from  the  enemy,  least   they  should  in  the 


jl^otes?  425 

darke  kill  of  their  owne  company  in  stead  of  the  enemy  ;  or  when 
they  take  their  enemies  in  their  beds  and  their  shirts,  for  it  com- 
meth  of  the  Spanish  Cami^a,  i.  e.  a  shirt."  — Minsheu,  Diet. 
Etym.^  quoted  by  F.  J.  C.  u.  s. 

255,65.  As  who  .  .  .  defence.  Do  you  expect  them  to 
make  no  defence  ? 

257,  76-    to  done,  to  do.     Dative  of  verbal  noun. 

257,  81.  Well,  with  the  rest.  Well  with  the  help  of  the 
other  citizens. 

271,1.  Thou  trustie  guide.  ''The  reader  will  remember 
Milton's  imitation  of  this  passage  at  the  beginning  of  Samson  Ago- 
nistes  and  Wordsworth's  beautiful  reminiscence  of  both  poets."  — 
F.  J.  C.  u.  s. 

279,  86.  Venus.  The  "  angrie  Queene  "  was,  of  course, 
Hera.  The  mistake  in  the  margin  is  corrected  in  a  contemporary 
handwriting  in  the  copy  of  Q3  at  the  British  Museum. 

281,  118-20.  I  see  .  .  .  greene.  Dolce  seems  to  have 
taken  some  details  of  this  sacrificial  scene  from  Seneca.  Cf.  these 
lines  with  CEdipus  318-324: 

Non  una  facies  mobilis  flammae  fuit. 
Imbrifera  qualis  inplicat  varies  sibi 
iris  colores  parte  quae  magna  poli 
curvata  picto  nuntiat  nimbos  sinu  : 
quis  desit  illi  quisve  sit  dubites  color. 
caerulea  fulvis  mixta  oberravit  notis, 
sanguinea  rursus,  ultimum  in  tenebras  abit. 

285,  150-51.  Why  fleest  .  .  .  fell.  This  is  a  very  natural 
misunderstanding  of  the  Italian  text,  but  it  suggests  that  Gascoigne 
did  not  even  consult  the  original  Greek,  which  reads  (PAoenissae, 
898)  :  KPE.  Meivov  ri  cjjevyeis  /i';  T.  r)  tvxv  <^\  aW'  ovk  iyu>. 
—  Cre,  Stay  !  Why  do  you  fly  from  me  :  —  Tei.  Fortune  flies 
from  thee,  not  I. 

301,  72-73-  "A  beast  .  .  .  life."  The  second  line  is  an 
addition  by  Gascoigne.  The  Italian  says  merely:  "  The  man  who 
kills  himself  is  mad." 

305,103.  Thesbeoita.  See  p.  xxvin  of  the  Introduction  as 
to  the  significance  of  the  reading  Thesbrotia. 


426  JliOtC0 

321,  57-   Whose  names  ye  have  alreadie  under- 

Stoode.  The  names  of  the  captains,  although  given  in  Euripides, 
were  as  a  matter  of  fact  suppressed  by  Dolce.  They  are  given  in 
the  Latin  translation  of  the  Phoenissae,  together  with  the  names 
of  the  seven  gates,  including  the  portas  Homoloidas,  and  Electras 
portas  so  often  referred  to  in  the  stage-directions  of  the  English 
play. 

324,116.    O  che  forse  periscano  ambedue.    Omitted 

in  English  version  and  in  O.     See  note  on  p.    126. 

331,  3.  Come  forth  .  .  .  daunce.  A  singularly  inept  ren- 
dering, both  in  the  Italian  and  the  English,  of  the  original  Greek. 
Phoenissae,  1270-72  : 

'^n  t4kvov,  6|e\0',  "AuTiyovr]  SS/xav  irdpos. 
OvK  iv  xopf ''«ts  ov5e  Trapdeuevfiacri 
Nvv  (Toi  Trpox^pet  Sai/xduwu  Kurdcrracns. 
Daughter  Antigone,  come  forth  the  house  ! 
No  dances,  neither  toils  of  maiden  hands. 
Beseem  thee  in  this  hour  of  heaven's  doom. 

(Way's  translation.) 

343,  40-42.    In  mourning  weede  .  .  .  despoyle  my 

Selfe.  A  ludicrous  mistranslation  of  the  Italian,  which  reads  : 
"  Here,  my  lord,  I  put  on  the  robe  of  mortality,  and  here  let  me 
put  it  off  again  with  honour." 

375,  164.  With  staggring  .  .  .  Stigian  reigne.  The 
alliteration  of  this  line  is  characteristic  of  Gascoigne.  Cf.  v,  iii, 
5,  and  v,  iv,  11.  See  Schelling,  Life  and  ff^ritings  of  George 
Gascoigne^  pp.  31-32. 

378,  203-04.  Poiche  .  .  .  abbiamo.  Gascoigne  has  omit- 
ted the  last  two  lines  of  the  Messenger's  speech. 

379-385.  Scena  3,  Scena  4.  As  to  the  metre  of  these 
scenes  see  note  on  p.  169,  1.  71. 

380,  26-27.  Madre  .  .  .  fratelli.  These  two  lines  of  the 
Italian  are  omitted  in  the  English  version. 

401,  128.  I  will  ensue  .  .  .  steppes.  Another  instance 
of  growing  weakness  as  the  translations  recede  from  the  original. 
In  the  Phoenissae  (1669)  Antigone  says  :  Ni;|  Sp'  iKeivrj  AavatSwu 
fi   e^ei  fxlav.     "  The  night  (of  my  marriage)  shall  add  one  to  the 


number  of  the  Danaides."  The  daughters  of  Danaus,  forced  to 
marry  the  sons  of  Aegyptus,  killed  them  on  their  wedding  night. 

401,  135.  What  .  .  .  thee.  For  this  mistranslation  Dolce 
was  mainly  responsible.      The  Greek  reads  {Phoenissae,  1674): 

T€vvai.6Ti]S  croi,  fxwpia  5'  tv^ari  ns 
"  Noble  thy  spirit,  yet  lurks  folly  there."  —  (Way.) 

In  the  Latin  version  the  original  is  prosaically  but  correctly  trans- 
lated :    Generositas  tibi  inest,  sed  tamen  stultitia  quaedam  inest. 

Dolce  changes  this  to  a  version  which  may  be  rendered,  "  That 
which  in  others  is  greatness  is  madness  in  thee"j  and  Gascoigne 
submissively  follows  his  blind  guide. 

413.  Chorus.  This  is  Dolce's,  though  the  thought  is  taken 
from  Seneca.  The  Greek  play  ends  with  a  "tag"  purporting  to 
be  spoken  by  the  Chorus,  not  in  their  assumed  character  as  persons 
in  the  drama,  but  in  their  true  character  as  Athenians  contending 
in  a  dramatic  competition.  The  tag  takes  the  form  of  a  prayer  to 
Victory,  "  O  mighty  lady,  Victory,  pervade  my  life,  and  cease  not 
to  give  me  crowns. ' '  Alluding  to  the  fact  that  the  Pkoenissae  gained 
the  second  prize,  it  signifies  a  hope  that  the  play  may  please  readers 
as  well  as  it  pleased  the  judges,  and  that  other  successes  may  fol- 
low. —  Verrall,  u.  s.  pp.  169-170.  Dolce  probably  omitted  the 
tag  because  he  did  not  understand  its  significance,  and  having  to  sub- 
stitute something  for  it,  he  turned  to  his  favourite  author,  Seneca. 


•BfliKogmp]^^ 


The  place  of  publication  is  London  unless  otherwise  indicated 

I.    TEXTS 

[1568.]  JocASTA  :  A  tragedie  written  in  Greke  by  Euripides, 
translated  and  digested  into  Acte  by  George  Gascoign  and  ffraunces 
Kynwelmershe  of  Grays  ynne.  1 5 66.  [British  Museum,  Addi- 
tional MSS.,  No.  34,063.] 

[1573.]      A   HUNDRETH    SUNDRIE    FlOWRES   BOUNDE  UP    IN  ONE 

SMALL  PoESiE.  Gathered  partely  [by  translation^  in  the  fyne 
outlandish  Gardins  of  Euripides,  Ovid,  Petrarke,  Ariosto,  and  others  : 
and  partly  by  invention,  out  of  our  owne  fruitefull  Orchardes  in 
Englande  :  Yelding  sundrie  sweete  savours  of  Tragical,  Comical, 
and  Morall  Discourses,  bothe  pleasaunt  and  profitable  to  the  well 
smellyng  noses  of  learned  Readers.  Meritum  petere,  gra-ve.  At 
London,  Imprinted  for  Richarde  Smith. 

1575*  There  were  two  issues  of  this  edition,  differing  mainly 
in  the  title-page.  That  of  the  first  reads  :  The  Posies  of  George 
Gascoigne  EsguiRE.  Corrected,  perfected,  and  augmented  by  the 
Authour.  1575.  Tarn  Marti  quam  M.ercurio.  Imprinted  at  Lon- 
don by  H.  Bynneman  for  Richard  Smith.  These  Bookes  are  to  be 
solde  at  the  North-west  dore  of  Paules  Church. 

The  ornament  of  this  title  is  ungainly  and  out  of  harmony  with 
the  rest  of  the  book.  This  was  probably  the  reason  why  it  was 
changed,  after  a  certain  number  of  copies  had  been  struck  off,  for 
the  tide  now  ordinarily  found,  a  facsimile  of  which  may  be  seen 
on  p.  I.  It  reads  the  same  as  the  above  as  far  as  the  italicised 
motto,  afi:er  which  follows  the  emblematical  device  of  the  book- 
seller, with  the  initials  R.S.  and  a  new  imprint:  **  Printed  at 
London  for  Richard  Smith,  and  are  to  be  solde  at  the  Northvveast 
doore  of  Paules  Church."  The  priority  of  the  issue  bearing 
Bynneman' s  name  on  the  title-page  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that  the 


words  at  the  end  of  the  F/owers ;  ''corected,  perfected,  and 
fivished  "  are  amended  to  "  Corected,  perfected,  and  finished  "  in 
the  other  issue.  Otherwise  the  two  issues  appear  to  be  identical. 
Both  have  on  p.  192  of  the  JVeedes  a  curious  ornament  dated  by 
the  engraver  Jan.  1574(1575  N.  S.),  which  must  have  been  made 
not  long  before  the  edition  was  printed. 

1587.  There  were  two  issues  of  this  edition  also,  the  title- 
pages  differing  only  in  that  one  reads  The  Whole  workes,  the 
other  The  pleasauntest  workes  of  George  Gascoigne  Esquyre  : 
Newlye  compyled  into  one  Volume,  That  is  to  say:  His  Flowres, 
Hearbes,  Weedes,  the  Fruites  of  warre,  the  Comedie  called  Sup- 
poses, the  Tragedie  of  Jocasta,  the  Steele  glasse,  the  Complaint  of 
Phylomene,  the  Storie  of  Ferdinando  Jeronimi^  and  the  pleasure  at 
Kenelworth  Castle.  London  Imprinted  by  Abell  Jeffes,  dwelling 
in  the  Fore  Streete,  without  Creeplegate,  neere  unto  Grubstreete. 
1587.  The  difference  in  title  is  probably  accounted  for,  as  Mr. 
Hazlitt  suggests^  by  the  publisher's  failure  to  carry  out  his  inten- 
tion of  issuing  a  complete  edition  of  Gascoigne's  works. 

1773.  The  Origin  of  the  English  Drama.  Thomas 
Hawkins.     Oxford.     3  vols.    Vol.  iii  contains  the  Supposes. 

1848.  Four  Old  Plays.  Three  Interludes:  .  .  .  andjocasta 
a  Tragedy,  by  Gascoigne  and  Kinwelmarsh  with  an  Introduction 
and  Notes   [by  Francis  James  Child],  Cambridge,  Mass. 

1869-70.  The  Complete  Poems  of  George  Gascoigne. 
Edited  by  William  Carew  Hazlitt.  Two  Volumes.  The  Rox- 
hurghe  Library. 

II.    BIOGRAPHICAL 

1577.  A  Remembraunce  of  the  wel  imployed  life  and 
GODLY  END  OF  George  Gaskoigne  Esquire.    Georgc  Whetstone. 

1 69 1-2.    Athenae  Oxonienses.     Anthony  Wood. 

1838-54.  Chorus  Vatum  Anglicanorum.  Joseph  Hunter. 
British  Museum,  Additional  MSS.,  No.  24.  487.  The  life  of 
Gascoigne  begins  on  p.  448  of  vol.  i. 

1858.  Athenae  Cantabrigienses.  C.  H.  and  T,  Cooper. 
Cambridge,    pp.  374-78  and  565-66. 


430  llBibliogtapl^^ 

1868.  Chronicle  of  the  Life,  Works,  and  Times  of  G, 
Gascoigne.    Edward  Arber  in  English  Reprints. 

1893.  The  Life  and  Writings  of  George  Gascoigne. 
Felix  E.  Schelling.  Boston,  Mass.  (  Publications  of  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania. ") 

1896.  The  Spoil  of  Antwerp.  Prefatory  Note.  Edward 
Arber  in  An  English  Garner.  Vol.  vni.  (New  issue,  edited  by 
A.  F.  Pollard,  1903.) 


III.    HISTORICAL    AND    CRITICAL 

In  this  list  are  included  only  ivorks  ha'ving  special  reference  to 
the  plays  translated  h^  Gascoigne  or  the  relations  betiveen  early  Ital- 
ian and  English  Drama.  Useful  information  of  a  more  general 
character  may  be  gained  from  the  ivorks  of  Allacci,  Cooper  Walker  y 
Creizenach,  Fontanini,  Gaspary^  Ginguene,  Klein,  Napoli-Signo- 
relli,  Riccoboni,  Symonds,   Tiraboschi,  Ward,  War  ton,  and  others. 

1862.  Memoria  intorno  la  vita  e  gli  scritti  di  Messer 
LoDovico  Dolce.  E.  A.  Cicogna  in  Memorie  I.  R.  Instituto  Veneto. 
Vol.  XI. 

1866.  Studi  intorno  la  vita  di  Lodovico  Ariosto. 
Giuseppe  Campori  in  Memorie  della  regia  accademia  di  scienze  lettere 
ed  arti  in  Modena.  Vol  11.  Since  republished  with  additions  as 
NoTiziE  PER  LA  VITA  DI  L.  Ariosto.  (Modena,  1871.  Firenze, 
1896.) 

1873.  L'  imitazione  classica  nella  commedia  italiana 
DEL  XVI.  SECOLO.  Vinccnzo  De  Amicis.  Annali  della  reale 
scuola  normale  superior e  di  Pisa.  Nuova  edizione  riveduta  dall' 
autore,  1897. 

1876.  Le  commedie  d'  Ariosto.  Gustavo  Tirinelli  in  Nuo-va 
Antologia,  III,  pp.   5 33-5 5^ • 

1 88 1.  Bibliografia  Ariostesca.  Giuseppe  Jacopo  Ferrazzi. 
Bassano. 

1886.  The  Influence  of  Italian  upon  English  Litera- 
ture during  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  Centuries.  Jas. 
Ross  Murray.    Cambridge.     (Le  Bas  Prize  Essay.) 


^ISibliograpf)^  43' 


1887.  Letters  di  Lodovico  Ariosto.  Terza  edizione  riv- 
eduta  ed  accresciuta.    Antonio  Cappelli.    Milano. 

1888.  COMMEDIE     CLASSICHE     IN    FeRRARA    NEL     I499.        A. 

Luzio  and  R.  Renierin  Giornale  Storico  della  Letter atur a  Italiana^ 
Vol.  XI. 

1890.  Giambattista  Giraldi  e  la  tragedia  italiana 
NEL  SECOLO  XVI.    Pietro  Bilancini.     Aquila. 

1 89 1.  Origini  DEL  TEATRo  italiano.  Scconda  cdizione  Hvista 
ed  accresciuta.    Alessandro  D'  Ancona.    Torino. 

1 89 1.  Il  teatro  ferrarese  nella  seconda  meta  del 
SECOLO  XVI.  Angelo  Solerti  and  Domenico  Lanza  in  Giornale 
Storico  della  Letteratura  Italiana.     Vol.  xviii. 

1892.  Die  Anfange  der  Renaissance  Tragodie.  Wilhelm 
von  Cloetta.  {Beitrdge  zur  Litter aturgeichichte  des  Mittelalters 
und  der  Renaissance.    Vol.  ii.)     Halle. 

1892.  Zu  den  Opere  Minori  des  Ludovico  Ariosto. 
Heinrich  Kehrli.     (Doctoral  thesis,  University  of  Zurich. )     Bern. 

1894.  ^^^  Dekoration  der  modernen  BiJHNE  IN  Italien 
von  den  Anfangen  bis  zum  Schluss  des  XVI.  Jahrhunderts. 
Eduard  Flechsig.  (Doctoral  thesis,  University  of  Leipsic. ) 
Dresden. 

1895.  The  Predecessors  of  Shakspere.  John  Churton 
Collins  in  Essays  and  Studies  (originally  published  in  the  Sluarterly 
Revieiv  ) . 

1898.  Beitrag  zu  einer  Geschichte  der  dramatischen 
EiNHEiTEN  IN  Italien.  J.  Ebner.  Erlangen  &  Leipzig. 
i^MUnchener  Beitrage,  xv.  ) 

1898.  Il  Cinquecento.  Francesco  Flamini.  [Storia  letter- 
aria  </'  Italia  scritta  da  una  societa  di  professori.  )    Milano. 

1900.  Ferrara  e  la  corte  estense  nella  seconda  meta 
DEL  SECOLO  XVI.  Scconda  edizione  corretta  e  accresciuta.  Angelo 
Solerti.    Citta  di  Castello. 

1901.  La  tragedia  italiana  nel  cinquecento.  Michele 
Biancale.    Roma. 

I9OI.      StUDIEN     iJBER     DIE     STOFFLICHEN      BeZIEHUNGEN     DER 

englischen  Komodie  zur  Italienischen  bis  Lilly.  Levin  Lud- 
wig  Schiicking.  Halle.  (Doctoral  thesis,  University  of  Got- 
tingen. ) 


432  Bibliograpl^^ 

1902.  Complete  Works  of  John  Lyly.  R,  Warwick 
Bond.     Note  on   Italian   Influence  in  Lyly" s  Plays.     Vol.   11,   pp. 

473-485- 

1902.  The  Italian  Renaissance  in  England.  Lewis 
Einstein,    New  York.     (Columbia  University  Studies.  ) 

1904.  La  tragedia  italiana  del  cinquecento.  Ferdinando 
Neri.    Firenze. 

1906.  The  King  of  Court  Poets:  A  Study  of  the  Life, 
Works  and  Times  of  Ariosto.    Edmund  Gardner. 

The  editor  regrets  that  he  was  not  able  to  consult  La  commedia 
(L  Sanesi)  and  La  tragedia  (E.  Bertana)  in  the  Storia  dei  generi 
letterarii  italiani,  now  in  process  of  publication  by  Dr.  Francesco 
VaUardi,  Milan. 


dPlOjSsiat^ 


In  the  abbrefiacions  c  stands  for  Chorus. 


accompt,  recount.  J.  v, 
ii,  8  ;  account.  S.  i,  ii,  51  ; 
II,  i,  116  ;   III,  iii,  61. 

accursing,    cursing.    J.  i,   i, 

150. 

acquiet,  alleviate.  J.  v,  i, 
14,  IV here  the  Italian  text  has 
"  acqueti." 

acquite,  fulfil.  J.  m,  i,  22  j 
relieve.    J.  n,  ii,  7. 

advertise,  inform,    y.  m,  i, 

115. 

affectes,  affections.  J.  i,  c, 
1 1  ;  passions,  y.  n,  i,  270  j 
S.  I,  iii,  73. 

affray,  terrify,     y.  n,  ii,  61. 

allarme  !  To  arms!    y.  v,  ii, 

184. 

amased,  dismayed,      y.  iv,  i, 

76  ;   S.  II,  i,  108. 
apay,  appease,      y.  n,  i,  450. 
availe,   profit,  advantage,     y. 


bandurion,  bandores.  The 
bandore  (modern  corruption  I 
banjo)  was  a  musical  instru- 
ment resembling  a  guitar  or 
lute,  with  three,  four,  or  six 
wire  strings,  used  as  a  bass  to 
the  cittern,  y.  First  Dumbe 
Shelve,  3. 


battailes,    battalions,     y.    I, 

iii,    148.      Cf.  Henry  V,    iv, 

iii,  69. 
baynes,  baths,     y.  v,  i,  ig. 
beates,  abates,  impairs,    y.  11, 

i,  407. 
become,  go,  gone.    y.  m,  ii, 

100  ;   IV,   ii,  c,   135    ^.  V,  V, 

185. 
berefte,   taken  away.     y.  iv, 

i,  13. 
beseeme,  become,     y.  u,  i, 

349,  609. 
beshrewe,  curse.    5.  m,  iv, 

65- 
bestad,  beset,    y.  11,  i,  170; 

II,  ii,  76, 
betroutht,    pledged,      y.    IV, 

i,  122. 
bewray,  betray,     y.  I,  i,  207. 
bibbeler,    drinker.      5.    I,    ii, 

39- 
bibler,    student    of  the    Bible. 

5.  I,  ii,  37. 
biased,    blazoned,      y.    11,   i, 

49^- 
bobbe,  cheat.     S.  IV,  iii,  29. 
bolne,  swollen,    y.  IV,  iii,  65. 
boystrous,   rough,  unwieldy. 

^.  I,  ii,  76. 
bravely,    finely.     S.    111,    iv, 

18. 


434 


^los?0ar^ 


bribing",    cheating,    dishonest. 

S.  I,  iii,  loi. 
bronde,  brand,  sword,     y.  ii, 

i,    lO. 
brouche,  ornament.      S.   i,  i, 

21. 

brust,  burst,      y.  V,  ii,  14. 
brute,  bruit,  rumour,    y.  i,  iii, 

176. 
busard,  a  worthless,  stupid,  or 

ignorant   person.        S.    i,    iii, 

lOI. 

bydes,  endures,    y.  11,  i,  628. 

cackabed,  a  coarse  term  of 
opprobrium.  Florio  gi'ves  it 
as  the  equi-valent  of  "  Guazza 
letto."    S.  IV,  vii,  62. 

cammassado,  camisado  (lit. 
*'  an  attack  in  one's  shirt  "), 
a  night  attack,  originally  one 
in  which  the  attacking  party 
wore  shirts  over  their  armour 
as  a  means  of  mutual  recogni- 
tion. Gascoigne  uses  the  term 
again  in  "The  Adventures 
of  Master  F.  J.  "     (Hazlitt, 

i»  P-  419)-      J-",  "»56. 

canker,  cancer.     5.  iv,  ii,  21. 

cankered,  venomous,  malic- 
ious,   y.  V,  ii,  67,  88. 

capcase,  a  small  travelling- 
bag.  S.  IV,  iii,  23  J  trans- 
lating yor2.?>ro. 

caphers,  capers.  5.  v,  iv, 
21. 

careful,  anxious,  full  of  care. 

y.   I,   C,   4  ;    V,   V,   200. 


carefully,  in  anxiety,     y.  iv, 

iii,  17. 
carkasse,  body.     y.     Fourth 

Dumhe  Sheive  et  passim. 
caters,    caterers.        S.    i,    iii, 

30  5   III,  i,  70. 
cautels,    traps,    artifices.      L. 

Latin  '•  cautela"  ;  5.  iv,  viii, 

84._ 
caytife,  wretched,   guilty  per- 
son,     y.    V,  v,  200  ;   S.  Ill, 

iii,  68. 
charettes,    carts.      Fr.    cha- 

rette.      S.  II,  i,  131. 
chivalrie,  cavalry.    See  Italian 

text.      y.  IV,  i,  82. 
clean,   completely,      y.    11,   i, 

63  J    IV,    i,     41  j     S.     Ill,     V, 

29. 
COdpeece,    a  bagged    append- 
age to  the  front  of  the  hose. 

S.  I,  iii,  22. 
cods  {more  correct  form^  ^'''^)) 

scrotum.      S.  11,  iv,  142. 
colling,   embracing.      S.  i,  iii, 

COllop,  slice,   portion.      .S.  iii, 

iii,  88. 
COmmoditie,  advantage,     y. 

II,  i,  257;  III,  ii,  31  ;   5.  v, 

iii,  46. 
COmpanie,      comrades.        y. 

Fourth  Dumbe  Sheive,   19. 
conceit,  what  is  conceived  in 

the  mind.    y.  11,  i,  358. 
conge,  leave,    y.  iii,  ii,  113. 
COnjecte,  conjecture,     y.  in, 

i,  117. 


^Io00ar^ 


435 


conney,  rabbit.     S.  IV,  V,  48. 

COntentation,  contentment. 
7.  n,  i,  447  ;  ^.  I,  ii,  44  5 
I,  iii,  no  J  m,  i,   65  5  v,  x, 

44- 

COntentations,  causes  of  con- 
tent,  y.  II,  i,  95. 

contrarie,   false.     5.    v,   v, 

14  ;   V,  vi,  10  j   ix,  6. 

controversies,     law     suits. 

S.  IV,  viii,  21. 
COrnua    {Latin)  ^    horns.        5. 

Ill,  i,  60. 
COrosive,    destroyer.      J.    11, 

i,  402  ;   S.  Ill,  iii,  62. 
costerd,    head.      S.    iv,    vii, 

63- 

COUnsailing,  giving  legal  ad- 
vice.   S.  I,  ii,  68. 

cover,  conceal.     J.  11,  i,  358. 

covered,    concealed.      J.    11, 

h  179- 

COystrell,  a  base  fellow.  6". 
I,  i,  152. 

cracke-halter,  one  likely  to 
crack  or  strain  a  halter,  /.  e. 
to  die  by  the  gallows  5  also 
playfully,  rogue.  Cf.  crack- 
hemp  and  crack-rope.  S.  i, 
iv,  7. 

Crusadoe,  a  Portuguese  coin 
bearing  the  figure  of  a  cross, 
originally  of  gold,  later  also  of 
silver.    S.  in,  iv,  24. 

cut,  a  docked  or  gelded  horse. 
^-  '^>  ^>  59-  ^°^  ^^^  expres- 
sion '<  call  me  cut,"  cf 
Twelfth  Night,   11,   iii,    203. 


cyndring,  reducing  to  ashes. 
J.  II,  i,  387. 

cythren,  citterns.  The  cit- 
tern was  an  instrument  like  a 
guitar,  but  played  with  a  plec- 
trum or  quill.  y.  First 
Dumbe  Shelve,  3. 

Dan,   dominus.    Lord.    J.   iv, 

c,  20. 
daunting,  stunning.  J.  v,  ii, 

86. 
Deane,   valley.  S.  m,  iii,  7. 
disease,   annoy,  displease.    J. 

II,  i,  142. 
dishonested,  dishonoured.  S. 

III,  iii,    43,    translating    P, 
*'  dishonorato." 

divine,  divining.  J .  The  names 
of  the  Interloquutors,  lo. 

divine,  diviner.  J.  i,  i,  395  11, 
">  1135  "i>  '>  46;  in,  ii,  3. 

dole,  sorrow.  J.  11,  i,  621  j 
V,  iii,  53  ;  V,  196,  224. 

dolour,  sorrow.  J.  iv,  ii,  54. 
S.  I,  iii.  III. 

Dotipole,  blockhead.  See 
Murray""  s  Dictionary^  under 
Doddypoll,  ivhich  is  the  com- 
mon form  in  later  times.  S.  I, 
i,  146,  -where  Doctor  Dotipole 
translates  "  II  Dottoraccio." 
See  also  Baker's  Endymion  (N. 
Y.  1%^^)  pp.cxxx-i  and  Note 
No.  2g  to  Section  Ix  of  War- 
ton''  s  History  of  English  Poetry 
for  the Eli'zabethan  play  ^^The 
Wisdome  of  Dr.  Doddypoll.'" 


43^ 


^los^fi^ar^ 


drabbe,  a  dirty  and  untidy 
woman:  a  slut,  slattern.  S. 
V,  vi,  7. 

earst,  erst,  before,  y.  i,  i, 
117;  ",  c,  5;  "I,  c,  3;  V,  V, 
249.  S.  I,  i,  40;  III,  ii,  II. 

eftsoones,  forthwith,  y.  i,iii, 
59  ;  agai"-  7-  "I)  "»  109- 

elde,   old  age.  y.  Ill,  i,  18. 
election,  choice.    S.    iv,    iii, 

54- 
embowde,  arched,    y.   I,  ii, 

10. 
emprise,   enterprise,  y.  11,  ii, 

72. 

enpalde,  surrounded,  y.  i,  iii, 
158, 

erst,  see  earst. 

exul,  exile,  y.  i,  i,  165. 

fall,  happen,  y.  11,  i,  406  ;  11, 

ii,  95, 
fardell,   burden,  parcel.  S.  iv, 

viii,  55.  Cf.  Hamlet  III,  i,  76. 
feere,  see  pheere. 
fell,  skin.  S.  IV,  iii,  17, 
fetches,   stratagems,    S.   I,  iii, 

100.      Cf.  Lear,  n,  iv,  90. 
flowring,   flourishing,    in    full 

bloom,  y.  IV,  i,  13. 
fond,  foolish,  y.  I,  iii,  182.  S. 

Prologue  et  passim. 
fordoe,  prevent,  y.  v,  v,  114. 
foredrad,  dreaded  before-hand. 

y.  Argument,  6. 
forwasted,     entirely    wasted, 

J-  ",  i,  517. 


forworne,  worn  out,  y.  iv, 

ii>  37- 
foyle,  defeat,  y.  i,  c,  21.  Ep- 
ilogue,  1 1 , 

fraight,  fraught,  y.  i,  i,  95. 
fraught,  laden,  filled,   y.   iv, 

i,  66. 
freat,  consume,  wear  away.  S. 

v,  iii,  10. 
fulkers,  usurers.   S.  11,  iv,  76. 
fumbling,  faltering,  y.  v,  ii, 

154. 
fyle,  make  smooth,    y.  11,  i, 

247. 

gaulde,  gall,  torment,  y.  iii, 
c,  4. 

gayson,  scarce,  S.  i,  ii,  94, 

geere,  affair,  business,  S.  pas- 
sim. 

gorget,  a  piece  of  armour  for 
the  throat,  y.  Second  Dumbe 
Shelve,  23. 

graffe,   engraft,  create,  y.  iv, 

c,  37- 
gramercy,   thanks,  y.  11,  i, 

24;  II,  ii,  129;  III,  i,  25. 
granair,    granary.    S.    Ill,    iv, 

20,  translating  "granari." 
gree,    pleasure,  y.  in,  i,  10 1. 
greed,  agreed,  y.  v,  i,  28, 
griesly,  fearful,  terrible,  y.  i, 

i,  139;  II,  I,  20. 

habite,  attire.  5. 1,  i,  21,  130; 

I,  iii,  120. 
halter  -  sicke,  gallows  -  bird. 

The  more   correct  form   seems 


<5lo00ar^ 


437 


to    be  halter-sacke,    luhich   is 

the  original    reading    in   Qi, 

changed,      ho-ive'ver,      in     the 

'  *  Faultes  escaped  Correction. ' ' 

S.  Ill,  i,   13. 
hap,    happen.     J.    11,   ii,  1315 

V,  ii,  90. 
happe,    fortune,    chance,      y. 

I,  iii,  58  ;  IV,  iii,   14;  v,  v, 

220. 
harbrough,   refuge,     y.   n, 

i,  200  ;  V,  V,  149. 
harlotrie,    scurvy,    worthless. 

S.  II,  iv,  8. 
headie,    headstrong.       y.    II, 

c,  3;  V,  V,  14. 
hearclothes,  haircloth,     y. 

Second  Dumbe  Shelve,  4. 
hempstring,  one  who  deserves 

the  halter.     5.  iv,  ii,  22. 
hent,  taken,      y.  v,  ii,  26. 
hest,  behest,  command,    y.  i, 

iii,  164  ;  II,  i,  25  i,  635  j  11, 

ii,  122,  135  ;  III,  ii,  68  j  in, 

c,  51. 
hight,  v/as  called,      y.  iv,  c, 

17- 
hoyse,   hoist,   uplift,     y.   v, 
c,6. 

I,  praesequar,  Go,  I  will  fol- 
low.   S.  V,  V,  33. 

impe,  offspring,  child,  y.  i, 
i,  54  ;  II,  i,  32. 

infracte,  unbroken.      S.  I,  ii, 

injurious,  insulting.    S.  IV,  V, 


27.     Cf.    Coriolanus,   iii,    iii, 
69  :   Thou  injurious  tribune. 
irked,  wearied,    y.  11,  i,  200. 

Jack  pack,  fellow.    5.  i,  iii, 

last  line. 
jarring,    quarrelsome,      y.   i, 

iii,  58. 
jelousie,  suspicion,    y.  i,  iii, 

117- 

joyly,  lively, well-dressed,  hand- 
some.   S.  I,  iii,  43. 

joyning,  adjoining,  y.  iv,  i, 
130. 

kallat  (more  usual  form,  collet), 
a  term  of  abuse.    S.  v,  vi,  I. 
kind,  nature,     y.  i,  c,  1 3. 

lavish,  free-spoken.      S.  v,  v, 

115. 
lese,  lose.    y.  II,  i,  26  ;  in,  i, 

3.  S.  in,  ii,4;  v,  ii,  42. 
let,  prevent.  S.  ni,  iv,  66. 
likes,  pleases,      y.  11,  i,  438. 

liked,  pleased.   S.  iv,  iii,  50. 


liketh.  5.  V, 


62. 


lobcocke,  a  dull,  heavy,  stu- 
pid fellow.    S.  II,  iii,  18. 

lumpishe,  unwieldy,  dull.  y. 
Ill,  ii,  43. 

luskie,  lazy,  sluggish.  S.  i, 
i,  150. 

lustlesse,  joyless,  feeble,  y. 
n,  i,  65. 

male,  trunk.     5.  iv,  iii,  22, 

translating  *  *  valigia. ' ' 


438 


^lofifflfarr 


matched,   mated.     S.   IV,   V, 

34- 

moe,   more.       J.    m,  i,  197, 
et  passim. 

mould,  mole.      S.  V,  V,    176, 
177. 

mumpsimus,  properly  an  error 
obstinately  adhered  to,  in  al- 
lusion to  the  story  of  the  old 
monk,  who,  when  corrected 
for  a  mistake  in  his  prayers, 
said :  "  I  am  not  going  to 
change  my  old  '  mumpsimus  ' 
for  your  new  '  sumpsimus. ' 
S.  I,  iii,  112,  where  it  ap- 
pears to  be  merely  a  term 
of  opprobrium,  translating  V^ 
**questo  tisico  vecchio. " 

murre,  cold  in   the  head.      5. 
II,  iv,  137. 

mustie,  damp,  gloomy.      11,  i, 
569. 

ne,  not,  nor,  passim. 

nill,  will  not.    J.  II,  ii,  52. 

nonce,    occasion.      5.    iii,    iii, 

22. 
noysome,  tiresome.    5.  IV,  iii, 

40. 

occupy,    profess,    be    engaged 

in.     S.  IV,  V,  10. 
overpining,  distressing.      J. 

V,  i,  17. 

paine,  toil.   5.  11,  iv,  131. 
paisse,  balancing,  leverage.  J. 
IV,  i,  47. 


paled,  pallid.      J.  V,  V,  167. 
parle,  parley.  J.  Second Dumbe 

Shelve,  26.    Cf.  Hamlet,  i,  i, 

62. 
part,  depart.      J.    11,  i,    612; 

V,  ii,  172. 
passe,  take  notice.    S.  iv,  vii, 

66. 
paune,    security,    pledge.       S. 

11,  iv,  75,  76. 
pawnes,    pledges.      J.    11,   i, 

453- 
pencion,    payment.      S.   i,    i, 

55,   ivhere    the    Italian  reads 

'*pensione."    L.  L.  pensio. 
percase,  perchance.      J.  iii, 

i,  145  ;   V,    ii,    27.      S.  Pro- 
logue, 7. 
perusing,     examining.        J. 

Third  Dumbe  Sheive,  1 4. 
pestil,  pestle.      S.  IV,  vii,   51, 

translating     V,     **  pestel     da 

salza. " 
pheere,    companion,     consort. 

J.  I,  i,    75  ;  II,  i,  502  ;  iv, 

c,  3 1  ;  V,  iii,  29. 
pickling,   paltry,  trifling.      S. 

I,  ">  73»  74- 

points,  laces.    S.  i,  iii,  21. 

politiquely,  craftily.  J. 
Fourth  Dumbe  Shelve,  1 7. 

pollicie,  trick.     S.  i,  i,  145. 

posting,  hastening.  J.  Epi- 
logue, 30. 

potestates,  authorities,  mag- 
istrates. S.  Ill,  iii,  38  ;  IV, 
viii,  48,  53,  ivhere  it  translates 
"  Podesta." 


^loflfsfar^ 


439 


poulters,  poulterers.  S.  iii, 
i,  68. 

practise,  stratagem.  S.  in, 
ii,  25. 

presently,  now,  at  present. 
y.  IV,  ii,  5  ;  S.  11,  ii,  14. 

prest,  ready.     J.  v,  v,  183. 

prickt,  decorated,  y.  11,  i, 
302. 

primero,  a  game  of  cards.  S. 
in,  ii,  3. 

proper,  pecvdiar,  belonging  ex- 
clusively to.    y.  I,  ii,  452. 

purchase,  obtain,  y.  m,  ii, 
9.    IV,  iii,  8. 

purveyed,  provided,  predes- 
tined,   y.  V,  ii,  27. 

queane,  woman ;  often  used 
as  a  term  of  abuse,  equivalent 
to  jade,  hussy.     S.  iii,  iv,  67. 

queynt,  strange,  far-fetched. 
7-  n,  j,  257. 

quit,  relieve,  release,  y.  iv, 
i,  15. 

quite,  quit,  give  up.      5.  v,  x, 

reade,  saying,  pronouncement. 

y.  I,  i,  107. 
reave,  take  away.      y.    i,  iii, 

100.      II,   i,    371,    621.      V, 

iv,  21  ;    deprive,      y.    i,   iii, 

3.    IV,  ii,  24. 
recknest,   givest   account  of. 

S.  II,  iv,  no, 
recorde,   remember       '^.    iv, 

ii.  8. 


recurelesse,  without  remedy, 
mortal,  y.  i,  i,  3.  v,  iv, 
29. 

reft,  took,  or  taken  away.  y. 
Ill,  c,  8.  V,  iii,  24  ;  be- 
reaved,  deprived,      y.    v,  iii, 

rest,  remainder,  balance,  all 
that  is  left.     S.  in,  ii,  6,  10. 

ridde,  got  rid  of.     y.  11,  ii,  i. 

rood,  cross.      S.  I,  ii,  166. 

royst,  swagger.      S.  I,  ii,  77. 

runagate,  a  worthless  person, 
vagabond,  tramp.  Really  the 
same  ivordas  "renegado,"  but 
early  confused  luith  "run" 
and  "  gate  "  [street^.  S.  iv, 
vii,  54,  translating  '<  fugi- 
tive. ' ' 

S.  Nicolas,  famous  for  his 
piety  ;  while  still  an  infant  at 
the  breast  he  fasted  regularly 
on  Wednesdays  and  Fridays. 
His  festival  is  on  Dec.  6.  S. 
I,  iii,  2. 

scabbed,  mean,  paltry,  worth- 
less.     5.  Ill,  iv,  67. 

scout,   outlook,      y.  II,  i,  8. 

serchers,  examiners  for  local 
duties.  5.  IV,  iii,  20,  trans- 
lating '*  gabellieri." 

set,  esteem,      y.  11,  i,  104. 

sevennight,  a  week.     S.  v, 

ii,  65,  ix,  16. 
shamefast,       modest.      The 

older  and  more  correct  form  of 
*' shame-faced."    y.  iv,  i,  i. 


440 


^losf^ar^ 


shift,  stratagem.     S.  iv,  i,  21, 

shotterell,  a  kind  of  fish. 
S.  II,  iv,  9,  nuhere  it  trans- 
lates ''luccietto"  (pickerel). 

silly,  simple,  guileless.  J.  iv, 
ii,  38. 

sithens,  since,  afterwards.  J. 
n,  i,  214. 

skride,  descried.    J.  iv,  iii,  7. 

slipstring,  a  careless  prodigal 
person  ;  a  truant.  5.  iii,  i,  8. 
Cf.  Mother  Bombie,  11,  i :  Dro. 
Thou  art  a  slipstring  He  war- 
rant. Half.  I  hope  you  shall 
never  slip  string,  but  hang 
steddie  ( Bond's  Lyly,  in, 
p.  184,  11.  54-55)- 

solempne,        solemn.       J. 

Third  Dumbe  Sheive^  16. 
Sollicite,   plead.      S.  IV,   viii, 

70. 
SOWSSe,  flood,      y.  V,  iii,  20. 
splayde,  displayed.     J.  11,  i, 

386. 
spred,   noised  abroad.      J.    i, 

i,  12. 
spurlings,  smelts.    S.  11,  iv, 

10. 
stale,  decoy,   object  of  allure- 
ment.   S.  Ill,  iv,  61. 
Staunce,    position,    situation  ; 

or  perhaps  disagreement.      S. 

II,  iv,  35,  where  it  translates 

*'  discordia." 
startling,    starting,     startled. 

J.  V,  ii,  104. 
Stayde,  steadfast,  assmred.    J. 

II,  i,  459. 


still-pipes,  pipes  for  playing 
stiU,  /.  e.  soft  music.  Laste 
Dumbe  Shewe,  I. 

stint,  make  cease.  J.  i,  i, 
200.      V,  ii,  43. 

sturres,  commotions,  disturb- 
ances,     y.  Epilogue,  21. 

SUgred,  sweet,  y.  IV,  c,  10. 
Epilogue,  35.      5.  I,  iii,  106. 

SUpernall,  supernatural,  y. 
I,  i,  38- 

SUppositorie,  a  body  intro- 
duced into  the  rectum.  S.  v, 
X,  63. 

surpresse,  suppress,  y.  Epi- 
logue, 22. 

SUpravisour,  superviser.  S. 
V,  ii,  62. 

surcease,  cease,      y.  iv,  i,  5. 

suspect,  suspicion,  y.  11,  i, 
6,  445.  IV,  i,  15,  108;  iii, 
6. 

SUStentation,  sustenance. 
S.  in,  iii,  78. 

tables,       memorandum-book. 

S.  I,  i.  Cf.  Hamlet,  i,  v,  107. 
target,      shield,      y.      Second 

Dumbe  Shelve,  11. 

teinte,  touch,     y.  v,  ii,  76. 

Cf.  Berner's  Froissart,  11, 
clxviii,  470  :  They  ran  to- 
gider,  and  tainted  eche  other 
on  the  helmes. 

therwhile,  in  the  meantime. 
y.  I,  iii,  124. 

tofore,  before.      S.  iii,  ii,  15. 

to  fuge,  took  to  flight.    .S.  IV, 


aios?sfar^ 


441 


i,  17,  where  P  reads:  "ho 

voltato  subito  le  piante. ' ' 
toye,    trick.      S.     u,  iv,    91, 

ivhere    it    translates     *<  cian- 

cietta."  S.  V,  vi,  44. 
travell,  labour.    J.  m,  i,  18. 

S.  IV,  iii,  7,  10.    V,  ii,  4. 
trothlesse,  treacherous.      J. 

I,  iii,  91. 
trotte,  contemptuous  term  for 

an    old    woman.      S.    end  of 

Act  III,  V,  ii,  54. 
trustlesse,  not  to  be  trusted. 

J.  n,  i,  98.    II,  i,  398.    in, 

i,  I. 

ure,   use,   practice.      J.   iii,  i, 
221. 

Ver,  spring.      J.  IV,  c,  22, 
violles,  ancient  musical  instru- 


ments of  much  the  same  form 
as  violins.  J.  First  Dumbe 
Shelve^  2. 

way,  weigh,    y.  IV,  ii,  31. 
■weedes,  garments.      J.  v,  v, 

weenes,   thinks.     J.   i,   ii, 

19.      Epilogue,  2. 
whelme,  overwhelm.      J.  11, 

i,  584. 
■wher,  whereas.      S.  v,  x,  28. 
wrecke,  revenge.      J.   11,   c, 

9- 
wrekefull,     revengeful.      J. 
II,  i,  131. 

yfrought,  see  fraught.    J. 

V,  ii,  74. 
yonker,    youngster,     S.    i,  i, 
150.    ni,  i,  12. 


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